


Burglary and Binders

by SNES_Trumpets



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Bisexual Fujiko, Blood, Drinking, FTM, Fujiko is supportive, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Original Character(s), Multi, Tags May Change, Trans, Trans Goemon, Trans Jigen, Trans Lupin, Zenigata is supportive, brief era-specific homophobia/transphobia implications, implied panic attack, some violence, the gang is younger in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:22:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24590758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SNES_Trumpets/pseuds/SNES_Trumpets
Summary: 24-year-old Jigen needs top surgery. The gang saves money so he can afford it. Angst and hurt/comfort ensue.
Relationships: Ishikawa Goemon XIII/Jigen Daisuke
Comments: 47
Kudos: 80





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kenapiece](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenapiece/gifts).



The yellow fiat sped down the roads. It jostled Jigen with each and every speed bump or crack in the road it passed over. The night air was crisp and the car window was open, so wind whipped through Jigen’s shaggy hair. He held his cap to his head, lighting the cigarette stuck between his lips as Lupin weaved around other cars on the road. Goemon sat in the back seat, shifting around, clutching zantetsuken to his chest. He stared down at the floor with worried eyes. Poor kid, Jigen thought. He remembered how scared shitless he was on his first theft with Lupin. 

Lupin stopped the car a few blocks away from the bank, hiding it neatly in a dank alleyway. All three stepped out of the car. 

“It sticks out like a sore thumb,” Jigen said, staring at the yellow fiat. He pulled his cap further   
over his eyes, lighting a cigarette. 

He glanced over at Goemon - the kid was trembling, gripping zantetsuken so tightly his knuckles were white. He gave him a little nudge. “We’ll be fine. It’s just a bank job.” 

“I am not nervous,” he snapped back, his posture rigid. Jigen rolled his eyes. 

“Alright! Ready?” Lupin grinned, pulling out one of his hand-made gadgets. 

“Another one of your thingymajigs? The last one failed,” Jigen said. 

“Oh, but this one works! I tested it.” Lupin waved the device in Jigen’s face - it seemed to be a lazer gun of sorts. Jigen gave an exasperated sigh, stuck his hands into the pockets of his combat trousers and started on the hike towards the bank. Goemon followed close behind them, a hand close to his sword. He glanced around, jumping at every tiny sound. Lupin marched straight on ahead, a stupid grin on his face, humming tunelessly. 

When they reached the bank, Lupin walked around the side of it and pulled the trigger on his gun. A red laser appeared, tearing through the stone wall. Smoke billowed from it and a loud grating sound echoed through the streets. 

“This’ll be a laugh,” Jigen said, following Lupin into the cramped space. He motioned for Goemon to follow, giving what he hoped was a reassuring grin. The samurai took a deep breath and took a few small steps closer. 

Shockingly, Lupin’s gadget managed to cut a hole into the wall. Not so shockingly, it broke, sparks flying everywhere. Lupin flinched, dropping the gun on the ground. 

“When will you quit it with that junk? Now every cop in the country knows our location,” Jigen said, shaking his head. “You ‘inventions’ never work, man.” 

“Aww, don’t be so harsh, Jigen-chan. This one worked, see?” He kicked in the part of the wall he just cut. It fell into the bank with a loud crash. 

“Be quiet,” Goemon said, his voice barely a whisper. “You are waking the whole neighbourhood.” 

Sure enough, lights in the surrounding houses were beginning to appear, angry faces peering through the windows for the cause of the deafening noise. Jigen gritted his teeth, shoving Goemon through their make-shift bank entrance. Inside, alarm bells were screaming. Lupin sprinted through the building toward the safe, pulling a stethoscope to his ears and bending down near the safe, the dial clicking as he turned it. Sirens were closing in, the screeches of tires on the road. 

“LUPIIIIN!” A scream echoed into the bank building followed by thundering footsteps. The safe cracked open and all three of them desperately hauled the money into their duffel bag, hearts pounding. But the footsteps were coming closer and closer. The back of Jigen’s neck prickled.

“Fuck it, we gotta run,” he said. 

“Just a little long… Almost there…” Lupin grabbed another armful of money, notes flying as he tried to squish more cash into the already-full duffle bag. Zenigata flew into the room, armed with a pair of handcuffs.

“Lupin! I’ve got you now!” He yelled, lurching towards the young thief. 

Lupin pulled the zip shut, pushed the bag into Goemon’s arms, and made a run for it, dodging past Zenigata. Zenigata yelled out to Lupin, trying to grab one of his lanky arms, but he was already too far gone. Goemon froze up, staring at the inspector with wide eyes like a deer in headlights. Jigen nudged him with his elbow and he burst into action, sprinting after Lupin. 

Jigen took a deep breath. Zenigata was still focused on Lupin, so maybe he had a chance. Mentally preparing himself, he broke into a run, weaving around Zenigata and dashing through their makeshift exit. Zenigata screamed after him, footsteps thundering. 

His binder was too constricting. He couldn’t take a full breath without his ribs aching, his lungs burning. He slowed to a job, gasping for breath. Goemon glanced back at him, his eyes widened. He started to run back towards Jigen, still clutching the duffle bag, green papers sticking out of it. Some notes flew out as he ran. 

“N-no!” Jigen shouted between gasps. “Go! Leave!”   
He saw Goemon hesitate, glancing at Jigen and then at the bag. Then, he turned and sprinted after Lupin. Good, Jigen thought. We can’t lose that money. 

Jigen’s jog trailed off into a walk. His legs felt like lead and he could barely breathe anymore, the binder constricted his chest too much to take in a full breath. He felt Zenigata’s handcuffs close around his wrist. 

“Gotcha!” Zenigata gave Jigen a wide grin. “You’re coming with me.” 

Jigen took a last drag from his cigarette, resigning himself to his fate. He allowed the cigarette to fall from his lips and onto the pavement, stamping on it and crushing it beneath his shoe.   
“Take me away, Pops,” he said, his voice hoarse, smirking, eyes wild beneath the brim of his cap.  
***

The bright light bore into Jigen, harsh against the darkness of the interrogation room. He tried to shield his eyes, but the light was too bright. Instead, he settled for glaring at the table in front of him. Pops sat at the other end of the table, puffing on a cigarette, the smoke clouding up the room. 

“So,” pops said, stubbing out his cigarette. “Why is Daisuke Jigen, infamous, lethal mafia hitman, now hanging around with a low profile thief?” 

Jigen stared at the table, mouth pressed into a thin line. 

“Not gonna talk?” 

“Can I have a smoke?” 

Zenigata complied, passing Jigen a lit cigarette. He took a deep pull from it, exhaling more smoke into the air. He resisted the urge to wrap his arms around himself. Without his thick combat jacket he felt naked, dressed in only an undershirt and jeans. He had to take his binder off to avoid damaging his ribs. He felt Zenigata’s eyes on his chest. Jigen’s hands tightened into fists. He kept his eyes on the table, biting down hard on the cigarette to prevent the tears from flowing. 

“Tell me Daisuke. Why did you turn to theft?”

“I… I was being underpaid and disrespected,” he replied. “It left a bad taste in my mouth, killing people.” 

“Theft is still a crime,” Zenigata said. “Why not just turn over a new leaf?” 

“It’s not that simple. No one will hire me because all I’m good for is shooting a gun.” He took a long shaky breath. “Besides… I need more money than what a retail job would pay.” 

“You don’t strike me as the materialistic type. Why do you need the money?” 

It was instantaneous, over as soon as it happened, but Jigen could swear he saw Zenigata’s eyes flicker between his chest and his face. 

He swallowed thickly, licking his dry lips. “I… I need it for a, uh, medical procedure.” 

Zenigata cleared his throat. “Forgive me for being forward, but… You’re trans, aren’t you?”

Jigen spluttered, almost inhaling his cigarette in shock. He tried to blink away the tears stinging his eyes. Harsh light still pierced his vision, causing him to wince. It hurt, it made his head throb. Anger bubbled through his chest. He clenched his fists so hard his nails cut into the soft flesh of his palm. 

“Will you turn that fucking light off!?” He snapped. His voice echoed in the cramped room. The walls seemed to close in on him. He was acutely aware of the weight on his chest and how it wasn’t flat like a ‘man’s’ should be. Tears spilled down his cheeks, splashing on the wooden surface of the table. His body shook with sobs. He tried to hide his eyes with his hair, his cap taken from him along with the jacket before the interrogation started, but it was a wasted effort. Zenigata had already seen. 

Zenigata was silent. He stood slowly and walked towards the light switch, dimming down the lights so the room had a dim, yellow glow. Jigen inhaled deeply, his hands trembling. He listened to the inspector walk around the table again and lower himself back into his chair. 

“You know, Jigen,” Zenigata said after a long pause. “Having boobs doesn’t make you any less of a man.”

Jigen gazed up at Zenigata, his eyes watery. “I can’t cope with the dysphoria anymore,” he said. His heart ached. 

“How expensive is the surgery?” Zenigata asked.

“Six thousand dollars,” Jigen mumbled. 

“That’s extortionate. It’s disgustingly cruel,” Zenigata said, hands curling into fists.

Jigen was silent, more tears falling onto the table. 

“Why… Why don’t we let you go for now?” Zenigata said. He scratched the back of his neck, clearing his throat. 

“What?” Jigen’s jaw hung open. He could not believe the words he was hearing.   
“I’ll take you to your things. Come with me,” he said, standing up. Jigen stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray as he followed, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Zenigata discreetly handed him a tissue as they walked, which he gratefully accepted. The jacket, along with his trusty magnum, his binder, a lighter and a box of Marlboro’s all sat on a table in Zenigata’s office - a dingy room with papers, cigarette butts and beer cans scattered around every surface. Jigen hurriedly pulled on his jacket, feeling instant relief at the baggy fabric covering his chest. He put his gun in his holster, pocketing the rest of his belongings.  
Before he left, he turned back to Zenigata.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. He closed the door behind him, pulling his cap over his eyes. He had a lot of work to do if he was going to afford this surgery.


	2. Chapter 2

“Goemon, you can’t!” Lupin said through gritted teeth, struggling to hold the samurai back. Goemon fought against the arms wrapped around him, constricting him, elbowing and kicking, trying to tear himself free so he could get out the door and run into the night to chase after Jigen. But it was no good. For someone so lanky, Lupin was surprisingly strong.

  
“It should have been me,” Goemon spat. He stopped struggling, the realisation that it was useless setting in. Regret heavy on his chest, he took a deep breath, the tension slowly ebbing away from his body. Lupin’s grip softened.

  
“We’ll get him back,” Lupin said into his ear. “We just have to be patient.”

  
“I should have gone back for him... I should not have left him…” Goemon slumped in Lupin’s grip, exhaustion finally washing over him. “I failed. You do not deserve an underling as dishonourable as I.”

  
“Don’t call yourself my underling. You’re my partner - we’re equal,” Lupin said, uncharacteristically stern. He sighed. His voice softened. “This kinda thing happens, man; it’s not your fault.”

  
Goemon felt Lupin’s arms hold him in a warm embrace, Lupin’s breath fluttering against his neck as he nuzzled his face into his hair. Goemon stiffened at the gentle touch. He felt heat rush to his cheeks and found himself feeling glad Lupin couldn’t see his face.

“Let’s go sit down,” Lupin said.

  
Lupin walked Goemon to the sofa with an arm around his shoulders. He grabbed some sake from the shelf near the door as they walked. The two of them sat down and Lupin leaned across the coffee table to pour some sake, handing the cup to Goemon. He held it in trembling hands and took small, calming sips. Lupin kept up a calm composure, but Goemon could notice the sweat beading up on his forehead, the tension in his body as he hunched over the table, scrawling down a plan to get Jigen back on the back of an old shopping list.

  
Despite the alcohol, Goemon could not relax. He felt it warm his cheeks, causing the room to sway, his hand still gripping Zantetsuken, prepared to draw it at any second. The back of his neck prickled as though someone were behind him, yet whenever he turned around to check the space behind was empty. All he could do was wait for Lupin to finish his plan.

  
***

  
Jigen braced himself. He stared at the doorknob and tried to work up the courage to open it. Lupin would probably be ashamed of him for getting caught by Pops so easily. He stepped back from the door, sticking his hands in his pockets, wondering just what he was going to say to Lupin and Goemon when he returned. Then he saw it. The corner of a white envelope poking out from their red mailbox. Frowning, he pulled it out and saw his name scrawled on the front in capital letters. There was no address. He turned it over, contemplating whether to open it or not.

  
“What are you doing hanging out here?” A familiar voice snapped him out of his trance. He jolted and spun around.

  
“Oh. It’s you,” he said flatly, his shoulders easing. He quickly shoved the envelope into his pocket, hoping Fujiko hadn’t seen.

  
Fujiko huffed. “What a way to greet a woman you haven’t seen in two months.”

  
Jigen scoffed, lighting up a cigarette for himself. “I’d rather it had stayed that way.What are you doing here at this time of night, anyway?”

  
“What did you just put in your pocket?”

  
“Um…” He scratched the back of his neck, sweat beginning to build up on his forehead. There was no use in lying to Fujiko. He took a drag from his cigarette, exhaled, and produced the envelope. “Honestly, I’m not sure. Some mail with my name on.”

  
“Let me see,” Fujiko said.

  
“No way!” Jigen said. He opened the door to the hideout and hurried in, slamming the door hard behind him and causing the entire house to shake. He’d slammed it with so much force that it didn’t latch properly and immediately swung open again. Fujiko glared at him as she stepped in and slammed it a second time. Lupin’s head peeked from the living room.

  
“Oh! Jigen!” Lupin rushed up to him, almost knocking him off his feet to wrap him in a tight embrace and rubbed his cheek against Jigen’s, his sideburns tickling. “You’re back. Did Pops leave the door unlocked or something?”

  
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, blushing, trying to pry Lupin’s bony arms off him. “I’m back.” He had to hold his cigarette an arm’s width away from Lupin so he wouldn’t accidentally knock it to the ground.

  
As soon as it had begun, the embrace was over. Lupin moved on to Fujiko, making a fuss out of her new haircut and babbling about how much they’d stolen that night. Jigen tugged the brim of his cap over his eyes and took another drag from his cigarette, turning away from Lupin and Fujiko.

  
He spotted Goemon standing on his own by the living room door. He gave the samurai a grin and waved him over, but Goemon’s gaze faltered. Jigen’s heart dropped when he walked away without saying a word. He gave Lupin a last quick hug and chased after the samurai. It left Lupin yelling after him, asking where he was going. He heard Fujiko telling Lupin to leave him be.

  
He found himself being led by Goemon into the backyard. It was an overgrown patch of land. There was a table rooted to the ground by weeds; an ashtray stuffed to the point of overflowing sat upon it, as well as a box of playing cards ruined by the rain, and an empty wine bottle.

  
They moved past the table, trekking through the long grass towards the patch of trees at the bottom of the yard. A garden swing seat sat within the trees. Goemon brushed the leaves and twigs from the seat and sat down with his head in his hands. Jigen lowered himself into the spot next to him, staring up at the full moon, still visible even though the sun was rising. An owl hooted in the distance.

  
“How’re you feelin’?” He asked, breaking the silence.

  
Goemon jolted, shoulders tensing up. He looked away from Jigen, trying to pull a piece of his chin-length hair over his eyes. Zantetsuken sat on his lap - he never left the thing out of his sight.

  
Jigen sighed, breathing out smoke. He leaned back against the cushions, enjoying the feel of the night air on his skin. “It’s not your fault,” he said. “That I got caught, I mean.”  
Goemon’s fists tightened around Zantetsuken. A tear dripped onto its wooden sheath. Jigen gazed at the samurai’s face. He had a dignified way of crying, keeping his face devoid of emotion, the tears streaming down his cheeks the only indicator of how he was feeling.

  
Jigen cleared his throat awkwardly, putting out his cigarette on the metal arm of the swing chair. He wrapped his arm around Goemon, bringing him closer to him, relishing his warmth.

  
“Listen,” Jigen started. “It’s fine now. Pops let me go.”

  
“It should have been me,” Goemon said, his voice small and shaky.

  
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jigen snapped. Then he cringed, realising how harsh he’d come across. He softened his voice. “It was my mistake. Don’t beat yourself up over it. You did the right thing - if you’d been caught we would’ve lost the money. Besides, even if Pops hadn’t let me go I’m sure Lupin would’ve come up with a plan to bust me out.”  
He brought Goemon a little closer so their cheeks were touching. “So, please. Don’t beat yourself up over it. It’s all okay now,” he murmured into his ear.  
“Did you say Zenigata let you go?” Goemon asked, wiping his tears in his sleeve.

  
“Yeah. I found it weird myself, but hey, I ain’t complaining. Oh, I just remembered something.” He fumbled around for his envelope. It was a bit crumpled from being shoved into his pocket.

  
“What is that?”

  
“Not sure. Wanna do the honours?” Jigen handed Goemon the envelope. Goemon turned it over in his hands suspiciously, cautiously, handling it as if it might explode. After he had examined it several times, he tore it open.

  
“It is money,” he said, pulling out a wad of twenty dollar bills. He flicked through them, holding one up to the moonlight. “They are not counterfeit.”

  
“How much is there?” Jigen asked. He wondered who would possibly send money. Pops seemed a likely suspect, but how would he know where their hideout was? Jigen was pretty sure Zenigata would storm their hideout if he knew where it was, too.

  
“About… Three hundred.” Goemon put them back into the envelope and handed it back to Jigen, who tucked it safely away into his pocket. “Put it towards your surgery.”

  
“That’s the plan. I… I actually think we can do this thing.” Jigen laughed breathlessly. “I might actually be able to get these things cut off, man.”

Goemon smiled and leaned into Jigen, nuzzling up against his chest. “I’m glad,” he said.

  
Jigen flinched a little—he had no binder on (he had put it into his pocket when Zenigata returned it to him earlier), but Goemon didn’t seem to mind. Jigen shifted so he was lying down on the seat, Goemon in his arms. His face still buried against his chest, his breaths warm against Jigen’s skin. Jigen’s heart fluttered. At that moment, he knew that he would do anything for Goemon. Die for him, even.

  
Listening to the sounds of the night, he closed his eyes. He hoped this moment would never end, that Goemon would always be by his side, that he would always feel this tranquil. Eventually, he fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kena, I was going to publish this chapter on your birthday, but I was too excited to wait. So here's an early birthday present from me <3 UwU

Jigen was snapped out of sleep by a rough shake. He almost fell out of the swing seat, gasping in shock. Goemon scrambled to his feet, brushing the leaves that had fallen onto him during the night from his clothes. 

“Why were you two asleep outside?” Lupin asked, steadying Jigen with a strong hand on his shoulder. 

Jigen couldn’t think of a sufficient answer. He shrugged. He stood up, picking a twig out of his hair and then sneezed, his whole body frozen despite Goemon’s body wrapped around him throughout the night. The sun was still rising, an orange glow dappled through the trees. A breeze sapped the morning air of any warmth and Jigen shivered, rubbing his arms. “I’m going back inside,” he announced. “Is Fujiko still here?” 

"Yup. She has nowhere else to stay," Lupin said. 

Scowling, Jigen made his way back inside, wading through the knee-length grass. His feet kept getting tangled in it, causing him to grind his teeth in frustration. He stomped into the house. Fujiko was lounging on the settee, picking at one of her nails. 

"Why the heck are you still here?" he growled. 

"Well, excuse me! I'm helping your sorry ass today," she snapped back, flicking her hair. 

"Today?" Jigen frowned.

"Lupin didn't tell you?"

As if on cue, Lupin strolled into the house followed by a nervous-looking Goemon clutching zantetsuken to his chest. 

"What's going on today?" Jigen snapped. He pressed his face right up against Lupin's, the brim of his cap stabbing into Lupin's forehead, his lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl. 

"Woah, woah, what's gotten into you, man?" Lupin stepped back, palms held up.

He stumbled back, out of breath. “I… S-sorry. But Lupin, listen to me. She’s going to double cross us, you know that, right?” He jabbed his finger in Fujiko’s direction as emphasis. 

“You have so little faith in me,” she huffed, pouting. 

“Because every single time you go on a job with us you always make us lose the loot!” The frustration bubbled up through Jigen’s chest again, causing him to tense, teeth gritted, hands balled into fists. 

Fujiko softened her voice. “I promise you I’m on your side this time. I know how important this is to you.” She stood up, stepping towards Jigen, holding out a hand towards his shoulder as though to rub it soothingly. 

“No. Stop. I… I don’t want your pity.” He sagged, taking a deep breath and slumping down onto the sofa. Goemon, who had been watching in silence, sat down next to him. 

“I will keep an eye on her,” he said in Jigen’s ear, his voice barely more than a whisper. 

“It seems like I’m not wanted here,” Fujiko muttered. 

Lupin rushed to her side, holding her hand in both of his, gazing into her eyes. He gave her a gentle peck on her cheek. “Don’t say that, Fujicakes. I want you here.” 

Her hand lightly touched Lupin’s collarbone, her other hand resting on his upper arm. She gazed up at Lupin with bedroom eyes and a flirty smile, her lips painted red. Lupin grinned, hand creeping to Fujiko’s hip. “Oh, Lupin,” she said, a seductive lull to her voice. 

“Tch. Stop with that!” Jigen snapped. “She’s just trying to manipulate you, Lupin.” 

They ignored him, continuing their act of love. He bit down hard on his cigarette, eyes narrowed as he watched the two of them giggle, hands all over each other, Lupin’s cheeks becoming lipstick stained.  
“Stop!” he boomed. 

Lupin stiffened, hands dropping from Fujiko’s hips. Brows furrowed, he turned on Jigen. “What the fuck is up with you, man? You’re so angry all of a sudden. Did Pops do something? I mean, what’s wrong with you?” 

“I just want to get on with whatever job you got planned,” Jigen mumbled, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and knocking over the china ashtray. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to discreetly take some deep, calming breaths, but he could see Goemon looking at him in the corner of his eye. 

Lupin lowered himself into the battered leather recliner opposite them, not bothering to rub the lipstick marks from his cheeks. “It’s a simple job,” he started. “Figured we could make some bank from that jewellery store in the city.” 

“Do we really need four people, then?” 

“Sure we do, Jigen-chan. The more, the merrier.” He stood up from the chair. “We’ll get going in half an hour.” And with that, he and Fujiko left the room, giggling as they went up the stairs. 

When he was sure they were in the bedroom and unable to hear him, Jigen leaned back into the sofa, breathing deep. “I just…” he croaked. 

“It is a valid worry,” Goemon said, staring down at his hands clasped in his lap. 

“You think so?” Jigen sighed. “ We’ve got, what, two grand? And I know she’ll make off with that and anything we earn at this jewellery store and then we’ll be back to square one.”

“I will make sure that does not happen,” Goemon said, his voice clearer, a more confident edge to it. He looked Jigen in the eyes, his gaze hard, determined. “I promise you, I will not let her take any of the money.” 

***

Jigen had many ideas of what was fun. Watching old Westerns, for one. Lounging around with a cigarette between his lips and a glass of whiskey nearby. Even playing poker with Lupin. He always cheated, but even that was still fun.

What was not fun, however, was working with Fujiko to rob a local jewellery store.

The store was dimly lit, the only light coming from inside the glass cabinets. There were diamond rings, diamond necklaces, diamond bracelets, all illuminated from underneath by harsh little lamps, causing them to twinkle and reflect beads of light against the dark grey walls. He strolled further into the building, shoes tapping against the marble floor, regarding the shop owner from under the brim of his cap. He was an older man with receding grey hair and watery blue eyes, his face etched with wrinkles. He sniffed at Jigen, arms crossed. 

Fujiko strutted over to the counter, hips swaying, black high heels tip tapping against the floor. A skin-tight crimson dress completed the look. She gave the man a delicate smile and leaned against the counter so her cleavage was in full view. “Bring me the most expensive ring you have,” she purred. 

The man was silent, looking down at Fujiko with a deep frown. After a pause, he produced a set of jangling keys and slowly turned to unlock a cabinet beside him, an eye still locked on Fujiko. “Buying something for your girlfriend over there?” He asked, voice brimming with scorn. 

“My… My girlfriend?” Fujiko shook her head. “I… I don’t have a girlfriend,” she said. Sweat beaded on her forehead, her voice shaky. 

“Who’s that over there, then?” He nodded towards Jigen, sneering. 

“He’s a friend,” Fujiko said.

“He? Oh, I get it now, she’s-” 

Before the man could finish his sentence, Fujiko sprayed a bottle of perfume in his face. His gasped, his eyes wide, inhaling the gas she’d replaced her usual floral scent with. Groaning, he crumpled to the floor, his set of keys rattling as they fell along with him. 

Jigen was frozen, his hands trembling in anger. A twisted part of him hoped the man had hit his head hard when he’d fallen. He began to stumble towards the counter, feeling lightheaded, but Fujiko placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. He flinched away, eyes wide. 

“Relax,” she said. “You have to ignore people like that. Trust me, it’s not worth getting hung up over it.” She handed him a bag before hopping over the counter and kicking the keys up into her hand. She tossed them over to Jigen. “Start filling this up - I can handle this guy.” 

Jigen felt his chest tighten. When was the last time he’d ever been called ‘she’? No one had misgendered him since he’d started testosterone a year back… He shook his head, trying to force the thoughts out of his mind. He fumbled around with the keys, testing each one in the cabinet until he heard a click. The glass door opened, allowing him to sweep everything inside the cabinet into the bag. 

Fujiko stepped back over the counter, wiping her hands in her jeans. “He shouldn’t be going anywhere when he wakes up,” she announced, putting a length of rope back into her handbag.

Jigen grunted, moving on to the next cabinet, the smell of Fujiko’s floral perfume making him feel nauseous. Sirens sounded from the distance and Lupin popped his head into the store. “Might wanna hurry up,” he said. 

“It took Pops a while to get here,” Fujiko commented as she snatched the keys from Jigen, apparently deciding he was too slow at this for her liking. 

Goemon popped his head through the door next, his face expressionless. “I would advise you to hurry,” he said. 

Jigen slung his bag over his shoulder and used his free hand to light a cigarette, the nicotine soothing his nerves. It didn’t quite rid him of the pent up frustration weighing down on his chest, however. His eyes flickered between Goemon and where Fujiko was scooping up jewellery behind him. “Make sure she doesn’t make a run for it,” he whispered. 

Goemon nodded and held the door open for Jigen to walk through. Fujiko followed close behind, a trash bag slung over her shoulder, the jewellery inside clinking with each step she took. It was bulging with a good two thirds of the shop’s entire stock. 

'This is it,' Jigen thought. 'She’ll run off with it all. Just watch her.' 

But she didn’t. She handed the bag to Lupin, complaining it was too heavy for her, and glanced back at Jigen to give him a faint smile. The shock of it almost knocked him off his feet. He wanted to thank her, tell her how sorry he was for doubting her. He began to jog after her, but halted in his tracks when he heard tires screeching from behind him.

“LUPIN!” Zenigata screamed into a megaphone. He jumped out of his car, red and blue lights flashing, providing him with a chaotic backdrop. 

“We gotta move,” Jigen hissed, grabbing Goemon’s arm as he sprinted back in the direction of the car. Lupin and Fujiko were close ahead, their pants for breath audible. He glanced back to Zenigata, shielding his eyes against the sun, and found the inspector had not moved an inch. He merely stood there, waving around handcuffs and screaming Lupin’s name into the megaphone. 

There was no time to think about what the heck Zenigata was doing. He forced himself to sprint faster, ignoring the burning pain in his chest, unable to take in a full breath due to his binder. The fiat was in sight now. Just a little longer… 

He slowed to a jog, his legs like lead. He was still clutching Goemon’s arm, the samurai running ahead of him now, dragging him along. “Sorry,” he gasped, his voice hoarse.

“Keep going,” Goemon said, tugging him along. He couldn’t hear Zenigata anymore. For some reason, he wasn’t chasing after them.

“Th-that… idiot…” Jigen said between gasps as they approached the car. His run had slowed into barely a walk, and he half collapsed against the yellow fiat, wheezing and coughing and gasping for breath. 

“What?” Lupin wrapped an arm around Jigen’s shoulders and eased him into the passenger seat of the car. “You mean Zenigata?” 

Jigen nodded, leaning back and closing his eyes, still breathing deep. The others got into the car, slamming the doors behind them. Lupin threw the bag of jewellery at Jigen’s feet and gave his partner a reassuring pat on the shoulder. 

“I… I think…” He took a few more deep breaths, struggling to recover from the run. “He’s purposely letting us go.”


	4. Chapter 4

Lupin spilled the bag of jewelry out over the coffee table. Diamonds, sapphires, rubies, emeralds, all twinkling under the glare of the living room light. Lupin dug through their spoils, metal clicking against gemstones, not caring if any fell off the table and bounced on the wooden floor. “Looks like we’ve got some good stuff here,” he said.

“How much do you think it’s worth?” Fujiko asked. 

Jigen was sat in the leather recliner opposite them, laying back into the chair with his head pillowed in his hands, puffing away at a cigar Lupin had stolen for him to celebrate. Lupin had also stolen a fedora which now sat on his lap, dark grey with a black ribbon. Lupin had told him it suited him much better than his battered cap. He eyed it, blowing rings of smoke. Maybe he should get a suit to go along with it. After all, he couldn’t keep running around in his old military-style clothes.

“In total, we have around four grand,” he said. “Didja hear that Jigen? We’re over halfway there!” 

Jigen forced a grin. “That’s great,” he said, hoping he sounded excited. He shoved the fedora on his head, pulling it down over his eyes. 

“Hey, that looks pretty good on you!” Lupin said. 

“You said that before,” Jigen said. He shoved his hands in his pockets, biting down on his cigar. He checked his wallet and found a wad of notes. Satisfied, he stood up and nodded towards the door. “I’m gonna head out,” he announced. 

“Alright,” Lupin said, laying back on the settee and resting his feet atop the pile of jewelry, sending pieces clattering on the floor. “Bring back pizza.”

As Jigen made his way to the door, he felt Goemon’s eyes examining him, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. The samurai said nothing, however, always a man of few words. Jigen didn’t know why he felt disappointed. He rubbed an arm, unlocking the door and closing it behind him, avoiding Goemon’s gaze. 

The town was surprisingly quiet. The usual hustle and bustle was absent, leaving Jigen free of crowds. He walked with his head down low, the fedora pulled down so low he could only see the ground. The cigar still hung between his lips, wafting smoke. The good thing about there being no crowds in town was that he could smoke in peace, no one barging into him or bugging him for a light. 

He found himself wandering into a thrift shop, the shop owner eyeing him suspiciously. He shrugged it off, too used to that look to care anymore. He took a long drag from his cigar, lifting his head to exhale the smoke towards the ceiling, and then stubbed it out in the store keeper’s metal ashtray. Toward the back of the store was a row of suits. He wandered over to them, pretending to look leisurely at the other nicknacks in the store as he walked. Snow globes, crusty old shirts, half-broken toys. The store owner was selling a load of crap. He sifted through the suits. All of them had a musty smell, but by the time he’d worn one a few days he imagined it would smell of cigarettes instead. Most of them looked tattered and worn, anyway. 

He stepped back from the suits, shoulders hunched. 

“This would probably look good on you,” came a familiar voice from behind him. 

He turned, mouth hanging open. “P-Pops?” 

Zenigata greeted him with a grin, holding up a black suit jacket that looked just his size. He lowered his voice. “You might want to go elsewhere for a shirt.” 

“D-Duly noted,” Jigen said, snatching the suit from the Inspector’s paw. 

“Why don’t you try it on?” He guided Jigen over to the dirty mirror in the corner of the store, almost shrouded in the clothes hanging around it. 

“Tch. Fine.” He pulled the jacket on, and… Pops was right. It suited him and fit him well. It definitely looked strange with his camo jacket underneath, though. He stepped back, frowning at the Inspector. “Wait. Tell me something. Why aren’t you arresting me?”

“Well, uhh…” Zenigata scratched the back of his neck, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks. He averted his gaze, staring at the gaudy dresses to his left. “I’m off duty. I didn’t expect to find you here, Daisuke.” 

“Heh. I didn’t expect to be here.” 

Zenigata cleared his throat. “I can take you to a place where they sell high-quality shirts fairly cheap. Uh, that’s if you’d like.” 

“Sure. Why not,” Jigen said as he strolled over to the counter, tugging off the jacket and handing it to the man, along with a twenty-dollar bill. “Will that cover it?” 

The man grunted, placing a ten-dollar bill on top of the jacket and pushing it back toward Jigen. Jigen took both in silence, glancing at Zenigata and motioning his head towards the door. Zenigata trotted towards it, his heavy footfalls tapping against the wooden floor. 

Zenigata led him to the store, a posh looking building with black walls and extravagant suits and dresses stood in the window display. They pushed through the double doors, greeted to calming piano music. He followed Zenigata towards the shirt section of the store. It was a huge section, a multitude of colours and different fits all hung up on rows and rows of clothing racks. He scowled, feeling Zenigata’s eyes on his back as he tore through the rack of shirts, and picked out a light blue shirt that seemed about his size, tucking it under his arm. 

“Do you want a tie as well?” Zenigata handed him a black tie. 

Jigen took it without a word, quickly glancing at the price tag. Zenigata was right - these were cheap, despite the quality. 

“There’s a changing room over there,” Zenigata said. 

Jigen gritted his teeth. “It’s fine. I don’t have to waste time trying this on. It’ll fit.”

“It wouldn’t be a waste of time. Come on.” He took the clothes from Jigen, ignoring his protests, and marched over to the changing room, pulling the red curtains open. He hung up the shirt and tie on the hooks inside of the small cubical and stepped out of the way. “Just check if they fit properly. Just in case. You don’t want to be wasting money you could be saving.” 

With a long exaggerated sigh, Jigen stepped into the changing room and tore the curtains shut, the metal railing clattering. In a huff, he threw on the shirt, hastily buttoning it up. He hadn’t worn a tie since he was in school and found himself suppressing yells of frustration as he tugged and pulled at the silky fabric. Finally, he gave up, tearing the curtains back open and stepping out before Zenigata. 

Zenigata examined him, stepping around him to view the outfit at all angles. Jigen blushed, tugging the fedora over his eyes and swallowing thickly. The back of his neck prickled and he wished Zenigata would quit staring at him like he was some kind of circus act.

“Turn around,” Zenigata instructed. He adjusted Jigen’s suit jacket and then spun him back around to re-tie his tie.

Jigen’s breaths quickened, his throat tightening as Zenigata’s hands crept to the tie around his neck. Oblivious, Zenigata continued and went through the motions of how to tie it properly. “Watch carefully.”

Jigen slapped his hand away, lurching away from him, fists raised. He panted, his eyes widened. “Stop,” he snapped.

“I, uh, I’m sorry, Jigen. Perhaps that was a bit too forward of me.” Zenigata cleared his throat. “I should probably get going…” 

“Don’t leave.” The word flew out of Jigen’s mouth before he could stop himself. He flushed a deep red. “I mean, uh…” He scowled, glaring at the floor.

“Do you want to get coffee?” Zenigata asked. 

“What the heck are you saying?” Jigen gritted his teeth, staring at Zenigata from beneath the brim of his fedora. A part of him desperately wanted to accept his offer for coffee, but he stepped back further, hackles raised. “You’re a cop.” 

“I’m off du-” 

“You said that already.” Jigen snapped. 

Hurt flashed in Zenigata’s eyes. He held up his palms, stumbling back from Jigen. “Please just let me treat you to coffee. I want to tell you something.” 

Jigen took a deep breath, the irritation still threatening to burst out of him. God, he needed a cigarette. He loosened his posture, trying to force himself to relax, trying to reason with himself. If Zenigata wanted to arrest him, he would have done so already. He’d already gone clothes shopping with him, so what would be the harm in coffee? He took another deep breath, the irritation finally ebbing away.

“Alright,” Jigen said breathlessly, allowing himself to be led to the counter. Zenigata insisted on paying for his new clothes and Jigen wondered if it was a ploy to make him feel even more guilt.

Zenigata led him out of the shop and towards a small local coffee shop. The interior of the coffee shop was furnished with plenty of houseplants and red leather couches. Artwork done by the locals hung on the walls and bossa nova music played quietly in the background, soft crackles from the record player giving the store a cozy feel. Jigen stood behind Zenigata at the counter, peering up at the chalkboard menus. 

“The usual, sir?” The lady at the desk asked. 

“Yeah,” Zenigata said, before turning to Jigen. “What would you like?” 

“You don’t have to get me anything,” Jigen mumbled. 

“Of course I need to get you something! What do you want? An Americano? Hot chocolate? Tea?” 

“You pick,” Jigen mumbled. “I’ll go find us a seat.” 

He wandered up to the back of the cafe and plopped down in the middle of one of the red couches. On the wall next to him were a row of old noir film posters - Double Indemnity, The Big Sleep, The Big Combo. All were faded at the edges and a little torn, but they were still stark and vibrant against the deep grey walls. There was a china ashtray on the worn coffee table, along with some succulents growing in a decorative plant pot and a pot of sugar. 

He shifted over when he heard Zenigata’s heavy footsteps approach, leaving enough space for the bigger man to sit beside him. Zenigata set Jigen’s coffee down before him. “I got you an Americano. I hope that’s okay,” he said. 

Jigen nodded. “What did you wanna talk to me about?”

Zenigata poured some creamer into his own mug as he spoke. “The money you’ve been receiving,” he began.

“I know it was you, Pops.” Jigen said, lighting up a cigarette. He hesitated before offering one to Zenigata. “I don’t get why, though.” 

Zenigata flushed red, averting his gaze and scratching the back of his neck. He plucked a cigarette from the box and cleared his throat. “Uh. No, that wasn’t me,” he said, his voice cracking.

“Sure it wasn’t.” Jigen took a sip from his coffee, cigarette tucked between his index and middle finger. He sank back into the soft leather, finally feeling more at ease.

“But… I’m glad someone did. Charging that much for surgery is legal, I guess, but maybe it shouldn’t be.” 

“I sometimes feel like I’ll never get enough cash, y’know… Lupin and Goemon are trying real hard to get me enough money but I dunno, man. I don’t think I deserve it.” 

Zenigata slammed his hands on the table. “Don’t talk like that!” 

“I’m a criminal, Pops.” He exhaled a plume of smoke. 

“So is Goemon, but he still got surgery. It’s a basic human right,” Zenigata said. 

Jigen’s eyes darkened. “How do you know about Goemon?” 

“I... Well, put it this way: I helped out with that.” 

“But you deny being the one who gave me money?” 

Zenigata spluttered, choking on his coffee. He opened his mouth to protest, but Jigen cut him off. 

“I’m kidding,” he said. Irritation bubbled up through his chest and he tried to push it back down, not wanting to snap at Zenigata again. 

“Do you actually feel guilty about the theft? Why don’t you turn over a new leaf? I’m sure I could get you a job under me,” Zenigata said. He gazed at Jigen, a hint of sorrow in his eyes. 

“It’s not the theft, man.” 

“Oh. I see. I get it now. The Mafia stuff.” Zenigata hunched his shoulders, staring down at his coffee. “It’s in the past now. You’re not that person anymore.”

Jigen was silent. He smoked the rest of his cigarette, the smell of tobacco mingling with the coffee scent surrounding them. He cleared his throat. “I, uh, appreciate the offer. The job, I mean. But y’know how it is. I like their company too much to ever leave them.”

“You know, Jigen, if there’s anything I can do to help, don’t hesitate to tell me. You know where to find me, right?”

Jigen gave a small smile. “Yeah... Thanks, Pops.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: some alcohol use in this chapter.

Jigen walked up the driveway of the hideout, balancing several boxes of pizza on one hand as he tried to dig through his pocket for his key. He shouldn’t have bothered, because the door swung open before he could even put the key in the lock. Goemon stood before him, the bright light from inside spilling out around him, contrasting with the dimness of the evening sky.

Goemon took the pizza boxes from Jigen’s hands. He paused a moment, looking Jigen up and down, taking in his new outfit. “There is something in the mailbox,” he eventually said, averting his gaze.

Jigen looked behind and, sure enough, another white envelope was poking out from the red mailbox. He plucked it out from the box and walked into the house after Goemon, shutting the door behind him. “Another one from Pops,” he said, turning the letter over in his hands as he followed Goemon into the living room. 

Lupin lay face down across the settee, arm hanging off the side, gripping a bottle of wine. His jacket was in a heap on the floor, his tie strewn across the globe by the side of the couch. His hair was a little disheveled, what was visible of his face flushed. Lupin didn’t bother looking up as Jigen’s footsteps approached. 

“Oi, Lupin. I got pizza,” Jigen said, strolling over to the couch and moving Lupin’s legs out of the way so he could sit down. 

“Hm? Pizza?” He sat up, rubbing his eyes. He pulled a box into his lap and licked his lips. “Oh, you got yourself a suit, huh? Suits you.”

Jigen opened his own box, immediately hit with the warmth of the pizza, the scent of cheese and pepperoni. He picked up a slice, cramming it into his mouth, relishing the garlicky flavour. “Where’s Fujiko?” he asked around a mouthful of pizza.

“Aw, she left. Didn’t even say a word to us.” Lupin gave an exaggerated sigh, shoulders slouched. He took a bite from his pizza, cheese dripping down his fingers. “She left something for you on the kitchen counter, though.”

Jigen grunted. He snatched the half-empty wine bottle from Lupin and took a swig.

“She cares about you, y’know.” 

“Hmph. Sure.” 

“Jigen has received another envelope from Zenigata,” Goemon announced, nibbling at the end of his slice of Margherita pizza.

“Oooh! Jigen, you’re popular! Let’s have a look-see.” 

Jigen scowled, pulling out the crumpled paper from his back pocket, not caring that he was smearing it with pizza grease. Inside was a wad of $20 bills. Jigen flicked through them, counting about $320. “He didn’t have to do that,” he said through gritted teeth. 

“I got you a little something too, man,” Lupin said, pulling out not one, not two, but three wallets from his jacket pocket. He tossed them and they hit the table with three satisfying thumps. “Which reminds me, how come you were with Pops earlier?”

Jigen almost choked on his pizza. He thumped his chest and took a swig from the wine bottle, the alcohol warming his cheeks. Head feeling light, he glanced over at Goemon, sitting underneath the light and delicately picking at his third slice of pizza. Maybe he should have bought Goemon some Japanese food, instead. He took a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling, thinking about how to answer Lupin’s question. He hesitated, and then finally spoke. “Not sure. I just bumped into him and we had a chat, is all,” he said, slurring slightly. 

“Yeah? That it? Oh, I’ve been planning a little something for our next job,” Lupin said.

Jigen grunted. Admittedly, he was relieved Lupin had dropped the Pops conversation. 

“Aw, come on, Jigen. Why d’you have to be so moody all the time?”

“None of yer business,” Jigen slurred. He shoved the last two slices of pizza into his mouth, immediately regretting it. Gasping, he managed to swallow the colossal amount of pizza, washing it down with a few mouthfuls of wine. 

“You cannot treat us like this and expect us to continue to help you,” Goemon said, his eyes dark. 

“Yeah, man. You gotta talk to us,” Lupin said, softening his voice. He tossed his empty pizza on the carpet, gently prying the wine bottle from Jigen’s hands and finishing the last of it off. 

Jigen pulled the brim of his hat over his eyes. “I’m just dealing with some guilt, is all.” 

“Would you like to discuss it?” Goemon asked, putting aside his half-eaten pizza. 

“Not really,” Jigen said. “What’s this plan of yours, Lupin?” 

“Nuh-uh. Not gonna say until you tell us what this ‘guilt’ stuff is about.” Lupin crossed his arms.

Jigen sighed, leaning forward, arms crossed over his chest. “My old job. That’s all.” 

“You mean the mafia hitman stuff?” 

Jigen hissed through his teeth. “You don’t gotta be so blunt about it, man.” 

“You talked about it with Pops.” 

“Th-that’s different.” He lit up a cigarette, taking a calming drag from it. “And we barely even talked about it. Anyway, stop spying on me.” 

“Someone has to make sure you don’t do anything rash, Jigen-chan.” Lupin beamed, reaching over to pluck a cigarette from Jigen’s pack of Marlboro’s. The smile didn’t reach his eyes. 

Jigen shifted around in his seat, scratching the back of his neck. “Is Fujiko gonna be on this job with us?” 

“Nope. She said she wouldn’t be back for a while,” Lupin said, tapping some of the ash from his cigarette onto the floor.

“If I may ask, Jigen, what prompted you to join the Mafia?” Goemon asked, his gaze locked onto Jigen. 

Jigen stared down at the carpet, watching the ash from his cigarette mingle with the fibres. “I figured there’d be money in it. Y’know, I moved to America thinking I would get rich quick, but it’s pretty difficult to get a job when all you can do is shoot a gun.” He glanced up at Goemon. “You probably get that.”

“Admittedly, I do not.” Goemon blushed. “You… You have my deepest sympathies, however.”

“Mmph. Lupin, what’s this job of yours?” Jigen asked, standing up and stumbling over to the kitchen counter. His surroundings swayed, hitting him with the realisation of how much he’d actually drank. 

Lupin tapped the side of his nose. “Just a museum gig. I was thinking something easy after the last couple jobs.” 

“So you’re not gonna give me any details.” Jigen frowned from beneath his fedora.

Lupin only chuckled in response. With an irritated huff, Jigen picked up the package Fujiko had left him. Inside, a collection of expensive-looking jewellery pieces and a couple Rolex watches. There was a note at the bottom — a hastily drawn picture of Fujiko flipping the bird, with the caption “fuck ur tits” underneath, written in cursive. 

“Tch.” He slapped the paper back down onto the counter. “What’s her deal? She’s been acting weird lately.” 

“And you haven’t been?” Lupin cut in. 

Jigen pinched the bridge of his nose, leaning hard against the kitchen counter, wishing he hadn’t drunk so much wine. “Okay. You’re right.”

“Of course I am,” Lupin stood up and gave Jigen a slap on the back. “And what are you going to do?”

“Tch. Stop treating me like a goddamn kid.”

“We merely want your word for it, Jigen,” Goemon said. 

“Fine. You have my word that I will come and talk to you both when I’m feelin’ shitty again.” He didn’t know whether it was a lie or not. But when Lupin wrapped an arm around him and Goemon gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder, he hoped it was not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> Artwork done by Kena - @smol_gay_kena on twitter
> 
> Artwork done by Laurens - @rascallyson
> 
> Artwork done by Spud - @cupofspud


	6. Knife at the Museum

“So what we’re after is the ‘Emerald Lady’ painting,” Lupin whispered as they approached the museum. It was a grand affair, flights of marble stairs leading up to two humongous oak doors, intricate wrought iron door brackets sweeping across the wood in spirals and swirls. The building was lined with pillars and beautiful stained glass windows. It was almost a shame that they’d have to cut through one of the windows to get in.

“‘Emerald Lady’, huh.” Jigen lit himself a cigarette, the flame briefly illuminating the darkness. He glanced at his watch - 4:00 AM.

“Goemon, do your stuff,” Lupin said, stepping to the side of the stained glass window, bowing and making sweeping hand gestures towards it.

Goemon drew Zantetsuken. He approached the window and, too quickly for Jigen’s eyes to follow, sliced a circular hole in it. The piece of glass slid out, smashing to the floor so loudly Jigen cringed, whipping around to see if anyone in the buildings nearby had heard. After a few moments of standing tense, hand hovering near his gun, he relaxed, sighing deeply. 

“Come on,” Lupin whispered, ushering Jigen and Goemon through the new make-shift entrance. Jigen jumped through, landing hard on the tiled floor below. The sound of his shoes clomping against the ground echoed throughout the museum.

Lupin motioned for them to follow, turning and walking deeper into the darkness of the museum. The walls were lined with paintings, all in ornate gold frames. From what Jigen could see, these ones were of landscapes, mostly done in watercolour. The center of the room had bronze statues, shrouded in shadows, looking eerie in the dark. Shuddering, Jigen turned away from them, moving deeper into the museum. 

The ‘Emerald Lady’ painting was in a room of its own, walls painted crimson with matching satin curtains drawn over the windows. The painting stood stark against the wall, illuminated by lights underneath it, a lady dressed in an emerald green dress with pitch black hair flowing over her shoulders. A grey cat with orange eyes sat in her lap. It seemed as though it was staring directly at Jigen. He bit down hard on his cigarette, shoving his hands into his pockets and turning away. 

Goemon stepped towards it, eyes glittering. “It is almost a shame we must sell it,” he whispered, reaching out towards the canvas. 

“Goemon, watch out!” Jigen yelled, shoving the samurai out of the way. A knife flashed past his face, wedging into the wall behind him. “Tch. That was close.” 

“I was careless,” Goemon hissed, drawing Zantetsuken, eyes darting around the room for any sign of the assailant. 

A man stepped out from behind the curtains. He was dressed in a black suit, a knife in each hand. His narrow eyes were a bright blue, striking against the dimness of the room. He regarded the three of them, taking his time to look each of them up and down before sighing, closing his eyes. “It’s time for you to go,” he said, his voice hoarse. 

The hairs on the back of Jigen’s neck stood on end. His hands trembled, reaching for his magnum, inching it out of the holster. The man’s eyes snapped open, his gaze falling on Lupin. Please don’t do anything stupid, man, Jigen thought. 

“Hmm? Me?” Lupin said, rocking back onto his heels and giving the man a toothy grin. “I’m not going anywhere. Mind stepping aside for me?” 

The man said nothing, staring down at Lupin, his mouth pressed into a thin line. 

“Lupin,” Jigen said, swallowing thickly. Sweat rolled down his face. “I think we’d better give this one a miss.” 

“Nuh-uh,” he strolled past the man. “Keep an eye on him, Jigen, Goemon.” 

The knife flashed. Jigen’s heart lurched. He pulled the trigger, but the man easily stepped out of the way, the bullet smashing into the wall next to his head. Lupin whipped around, Walther in hand, but the man knocked it from his grip. It clattered against the ground. 

“Now that wasn’t very polite.” Lupin tried to grin, his brow furrowed, sweat rolling down the side of his face. 

“I told you to leave,” the man said. 

“Who are you, anyway?” Lupin asked, easing himself down to pick up the gun. 

The man kicked it away, his face impassive. “I will tell you once more. Leave. The painting is not yours to take.” 

“Lupin,” Jigen hissed through gritted teeth. He kept his gun locked onto the man, but he didn’t even seem to notice or care, instead stepping closer to Lupin. 

“Oh, we got a tough guy over here,” Lupin said, still with that stupid grin plastered on his face. He took a few steps back, eyes flickering between Jigen and the man in a silent plea for help. 

Goemon took initiative, darting towards the blue-eyed man. He slashed, the blade whizzing through the air so quickly it caused a breeze to ruffle through the man’s hair. He avoided it easily, however, stepping to the side and leaving Goemon to stumble forward. Completely open. The man gave Goemon a hard kick in the ribs, causing them to crack audibly. He yelled out in pain and fell heavy on his hands and knees, gasping, eyes widened. He reached out for Zantetsuken, but the man kicked it away, causing it to skid across the floor and wind up out of reach next to Lupin’s gun. 

Jigen’s grip on his gun tightened, his other hand balled into a fist, his fingernails digging into his palm. Rage shot through him. He pulled the trigger with so much force he thought he might break his finger. The bullet rushed past the man’s face, grazing his cheek. He turned to Jigen, eyes momentarily wide with shock. “You,” he said. “What’s your name?” 

Jigen shot again, the bullet hitting the man in his right shoulder, blood bursting out from the wound and splattering on the floor. The man hissed in pain, recoiling. His arm was limp, the knife clattering to the ground. He glared at Jigen, his piercing blue eyes sending shivers up Jigen’s spine. He was still holding a knife in his left hand, the grip on it so tight that his knuckles were white with tension. 

“Daisuke Jigen,” JIgen said, voice shaking with rage. “That’s my name.” 

“You’re a good shot,” the man said, his voice strangely calm, steady. Then he turned towards Lupin and plunged the knife into his side.

Jigen yelled out, scrambling towards Lupin. The man removed the knife with a sickening squelch, blood flying out with it and splashing on the white tiled floor. Lupin reeled back, boots slipping in his own blood. His breath hitched. He fell to his knees, hacking up a mouthful of blood, staring at his red hands in disbelief. 

Goemon shot to his feet, grabbing Lupin before he could fall. He hoisted him up, half-carrying, half-dragging him towards the door, smearing a trail of blood on the white tiles as they walked. 

Jigen couldn’t breathe. The man flung open the curtains, opening the window behind and jumping out, his limp arm swinging at the momentum. Jigen fired his gun again, but missed, the bullet smashing the glass instead. Fragments of glass flew across the ground, a few pieces embedding themselves into Jigen’s leg. He barely noticed though, the adrenaline pumping too strong for him to feel any sort of pain right now. He made a start towards the window, fully intending to end the man’s life.

“Jigen,” Goemon said, his voice cool. 

It was enough to snap Jigen out of his fury. He slumped, breathing deeply, pushing the gun back in the holster. He turned away from the window and scooped up Zantetsuken and Lupin’s Walther, hurrying out of the room. Lupin lay on the ground in the hallway, face screwed up in pain, inhaling sharply through his teeth and groaning. “Jigen, I’m gonna fucking die,” he gasped. 

“You’re gonna be fine.” Jigen’s voice was unsteady. He knelt down at Lupin’s side, examining the blood soaked shirt. He slipped off his new suit jacket and pressed it down on where he hoped the source of the blood was. “You’re gonna be just fine,” he repeated. 

Goemon was undoing some of the bandages around his torso, his face grim, brows knitted in concentration. Lupin kicked his feet, shoes squeaking against the tiles, smearing blood. He groaned, eyes squeezed shut. “I’m gonna fucking die, man,” he moaned.

“Stop moving, Lupin,” Goemon said, voice stern. 

Jigen hoped that Lupin having the energy to move around was a good sign. He pressed down as hard as he could without making Lupin scream, the blood seeping through the jacket and onto his hands. Thankfully, Goemon nudged him out of the way to take over on the first aid duties. He managed to staunch the flow of blood a lot better than Jigen could, deftly wrapping his bandages around Lupin’s torso. “Can you stand?” Goemon asked. 

“Maybe. I don’t know. Fuck, man, I’m gonna die.” Lupin covered his eyes with his hands, teeth still gritted. 

“Shhhh, you’re not gonna-” Jigen was interrupted by the sound of footsteps thundering down the corridor. Zenigata. Goemon drew Zantetsuken and stood in front of Lupin, eyes narrowed, stance low. 

“What happened?” He asked between pants, trying to peek around Goemon at the damage. “Did he get shot?” 

“Stabbed,” Jigen corrected. “Goemon, just let him take a look.” 

Goemon glared at Zenigata. “Give me your word that you will not take advantage of his current condition.” 

“If by that you mean I promise I won’t arrest him, then yes. I promise I will not arrest him,” he said, finally catching his breath. Goemon stepped aside, but didn’t sheathe Zantetsuken, keeping an eye glued to Zenigata’s back. 

Jigen slumped against the wall, the surface cool against his back. He fumbled for a cigarette and flicked open his lighter with a clink. Taking a deep pull, the nicotine calming his nerves, he lowered himself to the ground. His hands were sticky with blood and he absent-midedly wiped them in his trousers as he stared at Lupin. “What’s the plan?” he asked. 

“We must get him back to the hideout,” Goemon said. “There is some medical equipment. Perhaps we could-” 

Zenigata cut him off. “I’m taking him to the hospital. He won’t survive the night without medical attention.” 

Jigen took another drag from his cigarette, exhaling smoke towards the ceiling. He studied Lupin. The younger thief’s face was ashen, his breaths shallow, face contorted in pain. Jigen pulled his hat over his eyes, obscuring the sight, instead studying the tiles. “Pops is right,” he said. “Hate to say it, bud, but you need a doctor.” 

“Jigen, I-” Lupin managed before erupting into a fit of coughs. “What about the money? We… worked so hard…” 

“Forget about the money. We’re getting you to a doc,” he said, feeling strangely numb. 

“Are you certain?” Goemon asked, sheathing Zantetsuken. 

“What, you want ‘im dead?” 

“No, that is not-” 

“We’re getting him a doctor, man. Pops, you have a car, right?” 

Zenigata nodded, eyebrows furrowed, the corners of his mouth turned down into a deep frown. “It’s outside,” he said. He wasted no time, scooping Lupin up in his arms and sprinting back the way he came. Jigen picked up his discarded jacket, now sodden and cold, and ran after the inspector, Goemon following close behind. Both of them took care to avoid slipping on the light trail of blood Lupin was leaving. Jigen cursed under his breath.

They burst out of the museum doors. Zenigata had apparently been given permission to have the key as he grabbed it from the lock before continuing on down the stairs. The cold night air hit Jigen hard, causing him to shudder. He stumbled down the grand marble stairs, feeling as though he would trip and fall at any moment. He wanted to cry, but he blinked away the tears, instead focusing on reaching the car. An easy task. It was only parked a few feet away from the bottom of the stairs.

When he reached the car, he found Zenigata leaning over the back seat, helping Lupin lay down. Lupin had lost the energy to fight, instead settling on whimpering and swatting at Zenigata’s hands. Jigen gave a long sigh. “Lupin, stay still,” he said, trying to keep his tone kind.

“You can’t do this, Jigen,” Lupin said between gasps. “The money!”

“I can and I will.” He got into the passenger seat of the car. He shifted over as much as he could when he saw Goemon approach. Goemon just about managed to cram himself next to Jigen and slam the door shut without trapping his sleeve in it.

“My apologies, Jigen,” Goemon said, blushing. He was practically sitting on Jigen’s lap, but there was nothing that could be done about that with Lupin taking up all of the other seats. Jigen would never admit it, but he quite liked being this close to Goemon. It settled his nerves. That is, until he looked to the driver’s seat and saw no sign of Zenigata. 

“What the fuck is taking Pops so long?” Jigen snapped, twisting around to get a better look at what was going on back there. He softened when he saw the inspector laying a blanket over Lupin, murmuring soothing words to the thief. Jigen turned back and sank into his seat. Goemon leaned into him, but he didn’t reciprocate. He felt too tired, too numb, a weight on his chest preventing him from caring. 

Zenigata finally climbed into the driver’s seat, slamming the door so hard the car shook. He switched on the ignition and the car sputtered to life. Then he floored it, the engine roaring and the car flying forwards, tires screeching with each turn Zenigata made. The force of it caused Goemon to slam back into the seat and against Jigen’s shoulder, but Zenigata showed no sign of slowing down. 

They reached the hospital in under ten minutes. Jigen was in a daze. It seemed as though he were watching a movie, sat a million miles away from the actual events unfolding. He watched from the passenger seat as Goemon and Zenigata rushed into the hospital, the inspector clutching Lupin’s limp body to his chest. Unsteady on his feet, Jigen stepped out of the car, feeling like the floor was swaying him side to side. He pushed through the hospital’s double doors. 

He shielded his eyes against how bright the hospital was inside. Too much white. Doctors darted around, disorientating him. Their voices sounded muffled and distorted, as though they were speaking underwater. He caught sight of Goemon,his face white as a sheet. He was saying something, but Jigen couldn’t make out what. Zenigata stood next to him, still holding Lupin. At the sight of this, Jigen stumbled back, crashing into a doctor, eyes wide as he watched Zenigata lay Lupin onto a stretcher, blood still seeping through those bandages. They wheeled him away, crashing through some double doors. Jigen tried to shout after Lupin, telling him to survive, but they were already gone.

Zenigata walked over to him, expression grim, placing two hands on his shoulders. “Lupin’s gonna be just fine,” he said, his voice just about audible over the ringing in Jigen’s ears. 

Jigen tore away from the man’s grip. “I’m going out for a smoke,” he said, turning around towards the door. He managed a few clumsy steps before collapsing onto his hands and knees. Zenigata - or maybe Goemon - rushed to his side, rubbing his back soothingly as he vomited onto the white tiles. “Oh, God,” he croaked before slumping onto his side, dead to the world.


	7. Chapter 7

Jigen awoke with a gasp. He sat up, tearing at the white sheets, ripping the IV from his hand, his vision still blurry. The room swayed and he felt bile rise to his throat. To the side of him, Zenigata watched, mouth agape. Goemon sat with his usual stoicism, one eye cracked open, the sides of his mouth drawn down. 

“Where’s Lupin?” Jigen yelled, his voice cracking. He threw the bed sheets to the floor.

“Jigen, you need to rest!” Zenigata stood up, hovering over the bed, looking as though he was near-tears. 

Jigen gritted his teeth, stepping off the bed, his legs shaking and weak. He fell, slamming his knees against the tiled floor with a grunt. Blood leaked from the spot in his hand where his IV was.

"O-Oi, you really shouldn't be trying to stand," Zenigata said, hoisting Jigen to his feet. When he saw how unsteady Jigen was, he scooped him up, holding him close. Jigen didn’t have the energy to protest. He would never admit it, but he enjoyed the feeling of Zenigata’s arms around him, warm and secure. He was almost disappointed when Zenigata lowered him back onto the bed. “It’s okay. It’ll all be okay,” Zenigata murmured. 

"Just tell me how Lupin is," Jigen said, voice weak. He closed his eyes, leaning back into the pillow, feeling the room around him spin. 

"The doctors haven't said anything yet. No news is good news, I suppose," Zenigata said, picking up the blanket from the floor. He draped it over Jigen and pulled the bed sheets to his armpits. For a moment, Jigen wondered if the detective was going to kiss him. He cracked open an eye, but Zenigata had lowered himself into the red plastic seat next to the bed. 

"How long was I out?" Jigen crossed his arms over his chest, staring up at the ceiling. 

"Three hours. Maybe four, I'm not sure. The doctor said it was shock," Zenigata explained.

"It would not be unexpected," Goemon said, staring down at the floor. Then he blushed. "That is not to call you weak. I just mean that I... was very concerned about Lupin, myself… and, I… I am relieved to see that you have awakened, Jigen." 

“Mm.” Jigen reached for his pocket for his cigarettes, but found he was in just his boxers and a hospital gown. He glanced around. There was a table at the side of the bed with some compartments underneath, but only his hat and magnum were there. “Got a cigarette, Pops?” 

“You’re not allowed to smoke in here,” he replied. “Do you need anything else, though? Water? Something to eat? Want me to adjust the bed for you?” 

“I’m fine,” Jigen said, a little exasperated. He leaned over the bed to adjust it himself, but Zenigata had already leapt out of his seat to help him. 

“Is this okay?” he asked, adjusting the bed into a comfy half-sitting position. “I’ll bring you something to eat, too. You need to keep your strength up.” 

“No, it’s fi-” 

“It’s no trouble at all. I’ll wash these, too,” he said, holding up a plastic bag full of Jigen’s bloodstained clothes. He began to walk out of the room, but stopped before opening the door, his hand hovering over the door handle. “He’ll pull through. I know it.” 

Jigen closed his eyes at the sound of the door shutting, sinking into the pillows and breathing deeply. 

“He’s gone,” Goemon announced. 

“You got that right.”

Goemon reached into his kimono, producing a series of envelopes. He put them on the bed. “I was able to exchange the jewellery for cash. This should cover the hospital bill. For… For both of you.” 

Jigen closed his eyes and sighed. He picked up the three envelopes and flicked through them, pausing on the two white envelopes from Zenigata. Goemon cracked open an eye, studying Jigen.

“We have enough in here, right?” Jigen asked, tapping the single brown envelope. It was fat, stuffed with cash.

“With Zenigata’s insurance, yes.”

“Then I want to keep these ones,” Jigen said, plucking them from the pile and tucking them beneath his pillow.

“I see no issue with that.” 

The pair fell into silence. Jigen's heart ached, wishing he had some news, any news, on Lupin's condition. He'd probably survive - he was strong, but the not knowing was painful. He gazed at the window. The curtains were thin material, so the rising sun was visible through them, causing an orange glow to flood across the room. Had it really been that long since the event? 

"Are you worried?" he asked, turning back toward Goemon.

Goemon opened his eyes. "Lupin is not so weak that he would die to a flesh wound."

"...It was more than a flesh wound, Goemon," Jigen said, his mouth hung open in exasperation. 

"I am merely trying to ease your worries." Goemon closed his eyes once more, arms crossed. Zantetsuken was tucked under his arm and Jigen wondered how the heck he was allowed to bring a sword into a hospital. He tried to smile. He'd heard once that smiling, even if you felt sad, would cheer you up. It didn't, really. He just felt like an idiot trying to contort his face into what a crazed maniac might consider a smile. He huffed, giving up.

“I don’t suppose ya have any cigarettes?” 

To Jigen’s shock, Goemon produced his box of Marlboro’s. It was very battered, smeared with blood and grime, but the cigarettes inside were intact. He even had a lighter. Goemon stood up and sat on the bed with his legs dangling from the side, a little too short for his feet to reach the floor. He turned and leaned close to Jigen, pushing a cigarette into the gunman’s mouth, gazing into his eyes as he flicked on the lighter and held the flame to the end of the cigarette. Jigen’s heart fluttered. Goemon’s eyes glittered, his lips parted, a blush appearing on his cheeks.

“Want one?” Jigen murmured, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks. 

“I… I don’t smo-” 

“Nah, you don’t gotta,” Jigen said, breathing out a plume of smoke. He wrapped an arm around Goemon and pulled him against his chest, ruffling his hair as he took another drag from his cigarette. “Growin’ your hair out, huh?” 

“As are you,” Goemon said. He traced the dark scruff on Jigen’s chin, his touch gentle and tender. “You are growing more of a beard, too.” 

“Thought you’d never notice,” Jigen smirked. “It’s finally growing in more. How does it look?” 

“Please forgive me for this. I cannot contain my emotions,” Goemon said, his face beet-red. He cupped Jigen’s face and locked lips with him in a soft, chaste kiss. Jigen’s eyes widened, his heart beating fast. His hand crept to the back of Goemon’s head, pulling him closer, tongue slipping into his mouth. There was a faint taste of sake on Goemon’s tongue, but it wasn’t unpleasant. Jigen stubbed out his cigarette on the bedside table, kissing Goemon deeper, heart pounding. Goemon parted lips with Jigen, leaving Jigen desperate for more. With a faint smile on his lips, Goemon moved Jigen’s hair out of the way to plant a kiss on his forehead.

“I vow to you,” Goemon said, “we will get the money once more. You have my word,” he murmured into Jigen’s ear.

“It’s okay, man,” Jigen said, heart aching at the reminder of the lost money. He pulled the bed sheet so it covered Goemon as well, leaning over to adjust the bed so it was lying flat again. “We should get some sleep,” he said. 

Goemon mumbled, wrapping his arms around Jigen, giving him small pecks on the cheek. Jigen stared up at the ceiling, hearing a clock’s ticking, smelling the clean disinfectant smell that clung to the air. The bed sheets rustled as Goemon curled up against Jigen, nestling his face into his messy hair. 

Try as he might, Jigen found himself unable to sleep, even an hour later. Goemon was dead to the world in his arms, the rise and fall of his chest soft. He was glad Goemon could at least rest easy. His mind raced over the possibilities of what could happen to Lupin, and he felt himself nearing panic again, his breath and pulse quickening. Had the poor bastard died? Was he okay? What if he lived but could never work again? He wanted to wake Goemon, but one look at the samurai’s serene face stopped him. 

The door cracked open, and Jigen tried to sit up the best he could without waking Goemon. He couldn’t help but feel disappointed when he saw it was Zenigata and not a doctor with news. The inspector slipped into the room, surprisingly quiet on his feet, and shut the door behind him.

“I brought food,” he whispered as he sat down on one of the seats, rummaging through the bag. He brought out some cups of instant ramen, a kettle and two bottles of water. “There’s one for Goemon, too.” 

“He can eat it in the morning,” Jigen said, carefully untangling himself from Goemon’s arms. He stepped out of the bed, pulling the sheets up to Goemon’s chin, and sat next to Zenigata on the seats. Though he hadn’t been able to sleep, lying down had done Jigen good and he no longer felt so dizzy. Zenigata had found a place to plug the kettle in next to the seats and was kneeling on the floor, pouring one of the bottles of water into it. 

“If only this thing would reach the table,” Zenigata muttered. 

“It’s not like you haven’t eaten on the floor before,” Jigen said. He glanced over at the clock - it was nearing 10 AM. And he hadn’t slept since the night before. Rubbing his eyes, Jigen glanced at the bag. It was a plastic shopping bag, thin enough to see the black fabric of his suit inside. Not the fanciest method of carrying around clothes, but it warmed Jigen’s heart regardless. The corners of his mouth turned up into a smile. Zenigata didn’t have to do that…

“Here,” Zenigata said, handing Jigen his instant ramen, chopsticks holding the lid down. “Give it a few minutes, first.” 

“Pops.” 

“Hm?” 

“Thanks.” 

The inspector blushed a little, scratching the back of his neck. “Don’t mention it. Look, I’ve been meaning to tell you. Fujiko is here.”

“Fujiko?” 

“I didn’t tell her where you were. She’s with some girl.” 

The door swung open and Fujiko strutted in, flicking her hair. “You shouldn’t lie to me,” she purred, tilting Zenigata’s head up with a thumb under his chin. “As if I’d believe Jigen left. That man is glued to Lupin’s side.” 

“Gah!” Zenigata almost choked on his ramen. 

“Where’s your friend?” Jigen cocked an eyebrow. He peeled back the lid of his ramen, hit with the smell of chicken and soy sauce. A pleasant distraction from the disinfectant smell. 

“She went home,” Fujiko said, helping herself to one of the cups of instant ramen. Jigen peered over, relieved to find three more cups in the bag. Goemon would still have something to eat when he woke up. “How’s Lupin?” she asked.

“Dunno,” Jigen said. “Was hopin’ you might know somethin’.” 

She stood with her hands on her hips, looking Jigen up and down, lip curled in distaste. “You look like shit.” 

“Gee, thanks.” Jigen scowled. 

“Lupin’ll be fine,” she said, sitting on the end of the bed with her ramen. She reached over and plucked a box of cigarettes and a lighter from Zenigata’s pocket, ignoring his protests as she lit one. 

“Whadda you know? You weren’t there.” 

“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic,” Fujiko said. “You’ve seen what Lupin can pull through. He’s fine.” 

Jigen grunted in response. He slurped the rest of his ramen, not feeling particularly hungry but not wanting Zenigata to worry if he didn’t finish them. Goemon had somehow managed to sleep through all the noise, his dark hair splayed across the pillow, clutching Zantetsuken to his chest. Then Jigen looked down at himself, remembering he was still wearing a hospital gown. He finished the last of his ramen, shoving the cup into the bin, and reached to the plastic bag for his suit. Before he could even slide the suit out, the door creaked open. 

“Daisuke Jigen?” A nurse stepped into the room. He glanced around the room, a look of shock in his eyes when he saw Jigen out of bed and Fujiko blowing smoke towards the ceiling. He composed himself, taking a deep breath. “We have news of Arséne Lupin’s condition.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that was so bland aghfuaiwhfwgoafwhjfuw


	8. Chapter 8

The nurse was almost sprinting as he led them down the hallways to Lupin’s room. Jigen's hands were clammy and his mouth was dry. His shoes squeaked against the ground as he upped his pace to keep up with Zenigata. Zenigata was marching so fast he was nearly plowing into the nurse, huffing air from his nose so loudly he sounded like a horse. He had apparently forgotten he’d handcuffed the four of them together, however, so with each step he took he was practically yanking Jigen’s arm off. Jigen and Fujiko exchanged a look, Fujiko raising an eyebrow. There were two cops standing outside the room. Both saluted Zenigata as he approached. 

Jigen’s heart lurched when they opened the door to Lupin’s room. He was immediately hit with the sickly smell of blood and traces of hastily cleaned up vomit. Venturing into the dark room, he felt Zenigata place a supportive hand on his shoulder. They neared the bed, softly illuminated by monitors. Lupin’s face was pallid, lacking any of the usual vigor he had, his hair slick with sweat. His entire torso was bandaged. One arm was handcuffed to the bed’s railing, the other hooked up to an IV. Jigen stepped back, teeth gritted, the handcuff chains jingling. 

“Hey, Jigen,” Lupin croaked, easing his eyes open. “Pops. Fujicakes, Goemon.” 

Jigen slouched forward so his hat concealed more of his face. He didn’t want to look at Lupin. Not like that. Not with all those tubes and wires. “How d’ya feel?” 

“Terrible. He got me good, man.” He chuckled weakly before erupting into coughs. His eyes were squeezed shut in agony, the muscles in his neck tensing. 

“My deepest apologies, Lupin,” Goemon said, dipping his head. “I have failed you.” 

“No, you did your best Goemon,” Lupin said between gasps, hissing through his teeth. 

“My best was not good enough. I can only hope to remedy this error in judgement in the future.” He dipped his head once more, hair concealing his eyes, his mouth drawn into a thin line.

Fujiko stepped forward, brow furrowed as she looked Lupin up and down. She swallowed thickly and straightened with her hands on her hips. “Honestly! How do you end up stabbed while stealing a painting?” She huffed, flicking her hair.

Zenigata just sighed when he noticed she’d slipped out of the handcuffs, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Jigen managed to pick the lock on his own cuffs and they snapped open, clattering to the ground. He turned on her, jabbing a finger in her direction “Shut up. You didn’t see the guy. You weren’t there.” 

“Well, excuse me! I was busy busting my ass for you,” Fujiko snapped. 

“So where the fuck were you when all this happened?” Jigen crammed a cigarette between his lips, ignoring the complaints from the doctors as he thumbed at his lighter, hissing through his teeth each time it wouldn’t light. Finally, the flame grew to life and he held it to the cigarette. He glared at Fujiko as he took a drag. “Not gonna talk?” 

Fujiko bristled. “Where do you think? I was with Jessica fixing your mess. We have the painting back at our safehouse.” Fujiko huffed, shaking her head. “Honestly!” 

“J-Jessica… That friend of yers?” 

“Well, friend isn’t the term I’d use, but yes.” Fujiko plucked the cigarette from Jigen’s mouth, inhaling the fumes once before stubbing it out, much to the doctors’ relief. The tobacco had drowned out the blood smell, much to Jigen’s relief. 

“Then why the hell didn’t ya-” 

“If you are finished acting like children,” a doctor interrupted, “we may discuss Lupin’s condition.” He was a tall man, his face stern and deeply etched with worry and frown lines. His hair was short, black and greying around the temples. His white coat was spotless, a stethoscope hanging around his neck. 

“Yes, that would be great,” Zenigata said breathlessly. 

“I suggest you keep your prisoners under better control.” The doctor tapped at his clipboard. “The knife missed his vitals, but he still had some profuse bleeding. The surgeon patched that up. He will most likely make a full recovery. He will remain here until he is stable enough to be moved. He is to do no strenuous activities for at least a month.” 

“Well, he won’t be able to get up to much behind bars.” Zenigata chuckled, giving the doctor a slap on the back. “Thanks, doc.” 

The doctor twisted his lip in disgust and strode out of the room without another word. The other doctors and nurses filed behind him, leaving the room to give Jigen and the others some privacy. 

Zenigata let out a sigh, shoulders slumping. "I think that one might be on to me."

"Yeah, it's not like this is very obviously a lie or anything," Fujiko said. 

Zenigata could only sigh again, lowering himself into a chair next to Lupin's bed and leaning his arms on one of the rails lining the side of the bed. It creaked under his weight, but he didn’t seem to care, resting his chin on top of his arms and pouting.

"Pops, here." Jigen pressed the envelope into the Inspector's hands. "The money we owe ya." 

"Fancy a thief giving me money." He pushed the envelope back into Jigen's hands. "No, I don't need it. The insurance will cover this."

"I was under the impression that your insurance did not adequately cover this," Goemon said, eyes narrowed. 

"Well, you must've misheard." He pressed the envelope into Jigen's hands more forcefully this time, so much so that Jigen stumbled back a little. 

"Ya sure?" Jigen asked, righting himself.

Zenigata nodded, lowering his head back on his arms again. 

Jigen had to hand it to him, Zenigata had a half-decent poker face. He turned away from the inspector, sliding the envelope into his pocket, the wad of cash inside weighing his jacket down. A strange mixture of relief and guilt settled into his stomach. 

"Hey, does that mean you have enough for surgery now?" Lupin asked.

"Nope," Fujiko interjected before Jigen could even open his mouth to respond. "Jessica and I are taking two thirds of the money for the painting. You get the rest."

Jigen’s hands balled into fists. “We risked our damn lives for that painting, and you’re about to fucking-! Argh!” 

“Relax, Jigen-chan,” Lupin croaked from the bed. “I got other jobs.” 

“You’re in no condition to work, Lupin,” Zenigata said. “In fact, I will be by your side twenty-four-seven to make sure you don’t go escaping here.” He grinned deviously, his mood picking up a little.

“Take good care of me, Zenigata-chan,” Lupin purred. 

Zenigata’s face turned a bright red and he sighed, drooping once more. Jigen felt almost sorry for him. 

It wasn’t long before Jigen, Goemon and Fujiko were ushered out of the room by the grumpy doctor. Jigen tilted his hat down low, slouching and holding his hands out so Zenigata could re-cuff them to escort them outside. He couldn’t wait to get out of that place and have a cigarette without the disapproving stares from the doctors and nurses. 

“If you want to visit him again, you’ll have to come disguised,” Zenigata said outside of the hospital, out of view from any doctors. “They think I’ve arrested you.” He left without another word, slouching off in the direction of the coffee shop he’d taken Jigen to.

“Do you realise how close I was?” Jigen hissed at Fujiko once Zenigata was out of view. “And you’re just gonna take, what, three grand?” 

“It wasn’t an expensive painting. You should aim for bigger,” Fujiko said, rubbing her wrists where the handcuffs had been. 

“Can’t very well do that when Lupin’s out of action.” 

“You don’t need him, you know.” 

Jigen stiffened, slowly bringing a cigarette to his lips, eyeing Fujiko from under the brim of his hat. 

Fujiko shrugged. “I’m just saying. Me and Jessica are planning something and we could use an extra pair of hands or two.” 

“What’s to say we can trust you?” 

“Well, you’re just missing out on several million if you say no. Nothing much.” She began to strut away, high heels tapping against the ground, hips swaying. 

“I would suggest taking her up on her offer,” Goemon said in a low voice. “It is better than nothing.” 

“Okay, fine. Wait up,” Jigen yelled after her, scowling. “If this backfires...” he hissed under his breath.

“I knew you’d come round!” she called back, her red hair swaying as she turned around. She gave him a sweet smile, but there was a devious look in her eyes. “Come with me.” 

***

Fujiko’s safehouse smelled of wine and cigarettes and a hint of musky perfume. It was far less run-down than Lupin’s, with tasteful furnishings and soft carpets. It was so well-maintained that Goemon took off his zori at the door, something which he hardly bothered doing back at their own safehouse, especially with the grimy floor. Jigen strolled into the living room and plopped down on the couch, swinging his legs up to rest his feet on the coffee table. Goemon knelt down on the carpet on the other side of the coffee table, eyes shut, hands in his lap. 

“Hi,” a woman strode across the room, black hair falling past her shoulders in ringlets, eyes an emerald green. She was wearing a black miniskirt, fishnets and a studded leather jacket. Black lipstick, heavy black eyeliner and black painted nails completed the look. She placed four wine glasses on the table, poured red wine in each and nudged one towards Jigen. “I’m Jessica.” 

“Thanks,” Jigen said flatly, leaving the wine where it was. 

“So you’re Jigen, right? My Fuji has told me about you. Top surgery, huh? Sounds rough. I can sympathise with that.” She sat down in the middle of the couch, right next to Jigen. 

“You weren’t supposed to tell him you knew, Jess,” Fujiko said. She rolled her eyes, but giggled, plopping down next to her. 

“Oops. Oh well, who cares. Anyway, here’s your share of the money.” She looked through her glossy black purse and handed Jigen some crumpled notes. 

He flicked through them and then clicked his tongue. “Fujiko. This is only $500. Where’s the rest?” 

“The rest is in my bank. That’s your share. One third, like we agreed. Anyway, you’ll get more after we pull off this job,” she said, smiling sweetly enough to give Jigen toothache. 

Jessica changed the subject. “So, you’re Goemon, right? A real samurai, huh. That’s cool.” Jessica leaned over the table, almost knocking over Jigen’s untouched wine. “Do you do that Bushido thing? Can you show me your katana?” 

Goemon’s face turned a bright red, the blush spreading to his ears. A line appeared between his brows. “Zantetsuken is not an object to be paraded about,” he said, eyes still closed. “I would rather we discuss the matter of this job instead of idle chit chat.” 

“Wow,” Jessica said, leaning back into the couch, wrapping an arm around Fujiko. “These guys are no fun, Fuji.”

“Tell me about it,” she replied, sighing. 

“Just cut to th’ chase, will ya?” Jigen snapped, snatching up his glass of wine, the dark liquid threatening to spill. “Tell us about this job of yers.” 

Jessica’s face lit up. “Oh, I’ll tell you. I’ve been working on this baby since last week!” She grinned, leaning forward once more, spilling some wine on her leg. “So, here’s the plan…”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning: there is some violence in this chapter, but nothing too gratuitous or gory.

Jigen trekked deeper into the forest, twigs snapping under his feet. Sunlight dappled through the leaves, golden light speckled across the ground. A river trickled by next to him, small fish swimming against the current. The air was fresh here, the earthy smell pleasant and calming, unlike the safehouse, which felt claustrophobic, the air thin and laced with the smell of wine. It was nauseating and Jigen needed to get out and escape it for a while. Which is how he ended up here at Goemon’s usual haunt.

Midnight. That’s when the job would be, only a mere eight hours from now. He scowled, jamming a cigarette between his lips. “Tch. Several million my ass. I’ll be lucky to get out of there with my life,” he said, fumbling around for his lighter. 

He continued to sulk, slouched, and smoking his way through three cigarettes before stumbling across a gnarled, moss-coated tree. Exhausted, he stood with his back against it, sliding down to sit at its base. He lit up another cigarette, the cherry glowing brightly as he took a drag. He closed his eyes, exhaling the smoke slowly, trying to ease his nerves. It didn’t stop the thoughts churning around in his head, though. Lupin, Zenigata, Jessica, Fujiko -- all of them were stressing him out. The envelope was still a weight in his pocket and he wished he’d left the damn thing at home.

“I had a suspicion I would find you here.” 

Jigen opened his eyes. He tapped the ash from the end of his cigarette. “Stalking me, huh, Goemon.” 

Goemon lowered himself next to Jigen, wincing as he did so. 

“Ribs still hurt?” Jigen asked, peering at him from under the brim of his fedora. 

“Somewhat. It will not affect my ability to work, however.”

“I feel uneasy about this, man. I don’t trust Fujiko or her girl. And the plan is ridiculous! Getting involved with the mafia in any way is bad news, take it from me.” 

Goemon listened, his gaze settled on some mushrooms growing nearby -- red with white spots. The kind Jigen had seen in the fairy tale books back when he was in his first year of school. After a moment of consideration, Goemon said, “I do not doubt that. Although, the way you speak… It is as though you do not even want this procedure.” 

Jigen sighed out a plume of smoke. “I want the surgery. I just don’t want my pals to get stabbed for it.” He stubbed out his cigarette.

Goemon cleared his throat. “May I have one of those?” 

“Hm? One of these?” Jigen shook a cigarette out from the box, holding it out to Goemon. Goemon took it, tentatively placing it between his lips. Jigen lit one for himself and, blushing, he leaned in towards Goemon, lighting the end of Goemon’s cigarette with his own. He gazed into Goemon’s eyes, exhaling smoke, the brim of his fedora bending back as it touched Goemon’s forehead. Then he pulled back, adjusting his hat, his lips turned up into a smile. 

“So I just-” Goemon took a drag from his cigarette and immediately erupted into coughs, spluttering and spitting out the cigarette. 

Jigen tipped his head back and laughed. He laughed so hard his belly ached and tears formed in his eyes. It wasn’t even that funny, but his heart ached so he kept going, his chuckles echoing throughout the forest. He reached for Goemon’s cigarette, but Goemon snatched it back, taking another drag, this time only coughing a little bit. This made Jigen laugh even harder, tears beginning to run down his cheeks. The laughter trailed off, replaced again by the ache in his heart. He wiped his eyes in his sleeve and sniffed.

Goemon rubbed his back silently, cigarette still hanging out of his lips.

***

The warehouse loomed above Jigen and Goemon, the moonlight casting an eerie glow across it. The trees around it were dead, branches stretching out towards the building like claws. Taking a deep breath, Jigen looked at his watch and then nodded to Goemon. It was time. 

Jigen gripped the rusted fence, the metal cool against his fingers. Through the gaps, he could spot four - no five - men guarding the outside of the warehouse, each armed with a rifle. He held up five fingers towards Goemon and stepped away from the fence. Goemon sliced through the metal bars as though they were twigs, the pieces clanging against the ground as they fell. All five guards whipped around at the sound, rifles locked onto Jigen. Goemon had already disappeared, too fast for Jigen to catch up. One man fell. Then a second. Jigen sprinted up to a third, whacking him hard on the head with the butt of his gun and knocking him out. The fourth shot at him, grazing his cheek, but Goemon hit him in the back of the neck before he could fire another shot at Jigen. The fifth man looked at his comrades and gritted his teeth, bursting into a sprint towards the warehouse door. Jigen shot at him, hitting him in the side. He stumbled, righted himself, and kept on running, leaving a trail of blood.

"Shit," Jigen hissed. "There goes our stealth."

"Hopefully Jessica and Fujiko will not be detected," Goemon said.

"We might as well go in through the front door.” 

The inside was illuminated by camping lanterns, their light reminiscent of candle-light, orange, flickering and dim. It would be cozy if the place wasn't swarming with men. Most of the men were peeking over the tops of large wooden crates like meerkats. Some were sat at tables and some were leaning against the corrugated iron walls. All of them were armed.  
Without warning, they fired.

Jigen rolled behind a crate, breathing hard. Bullets ricocheted against the metal walls and crashed into the wooden crates and furniture. Jigen peered out from behind his crate. Men were falling left and right, yelling and crashing to the ground. Goemon was unstoppable, his blade moving as fast as lightning.

The Jewel they were after - The Black Rainbow - sat on a podium at the back of the warehouse. Jigen stiffened. He spotted a pair of unmistakable piercing blue eyes. Blood thundered in his ears and he ducked back into the cover of the crate, breaths coming out in panicked, spluttering gasps. He peeked out again, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. Pulling the hammer of his gun, he locked eyes with the man, his gaze chilling. He sprinted out from his cover, bullets showering down on him, blood splattering on his face as Goemon continued to cut through the army of men. Jigen refused to waste any bullets on small-fry, his gaze locked onto that blue-eyed man as he sprinted, bullets whizzing past him in all directions.

Agony. A bullet tore through the flesh of his arm, leaving it limp, but he still kept on running. A few more bullets grazed him, but he trusted Goemon to take care of the rest of the men and keep him safe. 

The blue-eyed man was standing at the back of the warehouse, the jewel behind him in a glass tank. It was completely black, just as Jessica had told him. Apparently, if it was held under a light, it would reflect multi-coloured lights, rainbows dappled across every surface. The man stepped in front of it and blocked it from view before Jigen could get a better look, staring down at him. His expression was unreadable. 

“Daisuke Jigen,” he said. “The Boss had many things to tell me about you.” 

“Is that so,” Jigen said through gritted teeth, forcing himself to grin. He tightened his tie around his injured arm, using his teeth to tug it into a painful knot. It was the best he could do to stop the blood flow. 

The man drew his twin knives. “None of what he said was good. Not following orders, attitude problems, betrayal… He’s not happy at all. Why did you come crawling back to America? You were safer in Japan.” 

“I just go wherever the job takes me.” He spun the barrel of his revolver, stretching the kinks out of his neck. “Speaking of the Boss, where is he?” 

“Elsewhere. Not here. He wanted the Emerald Lady painting and the Jewel by the end of the week.” The man gave an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. “It’s most unfortunate you went after that painting, Daisuke. And now the Jewel? Perhaps things could have ended better for you if you hadn’t.” 

“Cut the generic monologue crap,” Jigen spat. 

The man slashed Jigen across his cheek and knocked the magnum out of his hand in quick succession. Jigen yelled out, jumping back to avoid the next blow. He tried to reach for his gun on the floor, but the man stomped his foot, trapping Jigen's hand underneath his polished dress shoe. He pressed down hard enough for it to hurt, but not so hard that it did any significant damage. He was toying with him. Anger flashed through Jigen, making his face feel hot.

"Why did you leave?" the man asked.

“The pay. It was shit." Jigen glared up at the man, trying to tear his hand free. "You're my replacement, huh?" 

"Vincent. That's my name." Vincent lifted his foot from Jigen’s hand and nudged the gun towards him with the tip of his shoe. Jigen snatched it up and dashed. The gunfire had more or less disappeared, most of the men laying on the floor. Jigen rolled behind another crate, wincing, blood streaming from the gash in his cheek.

Jigen heard Vincent curse, footsteps thundering towards him. Good. That meant the jewel was unguarded. Jessica and Fujiko could do their thing.

He peered out from behind the crate and fired a shot at Vincent, aiming for the arm he'd shot the last time they’d met. Blood burst out from it, the bullet hitting its mark. Jigen ducked back behind his cover and ran through the aisle of crates, boxes and tables until he reached the left wall of the warehouse, stepping over the bodies lying across the floor. With his back against the wall, he fired two more shots at Vincent, who was catching up with him. One bullet hit his gut and he stumbled, knocking over a table, the deck of cards on it flying up and fluttering around him. The second bullet Jigen shot whizzed past him, grazing his jaw. 

Vincent righted himself, swaying side to side, his eyes wild and bloodshot. He hurled a knife. Jigen tried to jump out of the way, but it hit his thigh, embedded there. The pain was so intense that his breaths emerged as choking, spluttering gasps. He tried to grasp at the wall so he wouldn't fall, but there was nothing to hold on to, blood-soaked hands sliding across the metal. He crashed to his knees, blood spurting from his thigh. Hissing through his teeth, he scrambled back so he sat with his back against the wall, both legs splayed out before him, the knife jutting from the right leg. He tilted his head back so he could glare at Vincent from under the brim of his fedora, his teeth clenched. With a shaking hand, he lifted his gun, aiming it straight at Vincent’s heart. Vincent glared back, his silver hair dishevelled, blue eyes more piercing than ever. He was panting, blood pouring from the wound in his gut and arm, splashing all over the cards scattered on the ground around him. He sneered at Jigen before slumping to the floor with a sickening splat. 

Panting, Jigen kept his gun locked on the man on the floor, finger hovering over the trigger. Vincent was lying face down, blood pooled around him, seeping into the playing cards and matting his long hair. When Jigen was sure that Vincent wouldn’t jump up and throw the other knife at him, he lowered his gun, his breathing slowing to a normal rate. 

“G-Goemon? You still alive?” he called. 

“Yes, I am unharmed.” The answer came from the other side of the warehouse. 

“He got me in the leg. I can’t walk. Can you get to me?” 

Goemon was standing before him within a minute, staring wordlessly at the blood-soaked form of Vincent lying before him. He stepped around him and walked over to Jigen, bending down to his level and slipping his arms around him. Careful not to hurt his arm or leg, he picked him up, holding him bridal style. Jigen’s injured arm was draped across his stomach, dying his blue shirt red.

“Y-You don’t hafta carry me,” Jigen said, the heat rising to his cheeks. He pulled his fedora down low over his face in an attempt to hide the blush.

“I want to,” Goemon murmured, walking back in the direction of the door. He walked slowly, which Jigen was thankful for because each step he took jostled his leg, sending a searing pain through it. 

“Did you get everyone?” Jigen asked, glancing around the room for any stragglers. 

“Yes. You are safe.” He pressed a kiss on Jigen’s forehead and pushed open the door to the warehouse. The cold night air rushed in, ruffling both men’s hair, strangely soothing. Goemon stepped out into it. The half-moon was bright in the sky, stars shimmering around it. The trees lining the warehouse were somehow less eerie now, looking less like claws and more like trees. 

“The jewel?” Jigen asked. 

“Jessica obtained it while you were fighting. I believe they have taken their leave and are safe, now.” 

Jigen nodded, closing his eyes, relishing the night air and Goemon’s strong arms around him, lowering him down into the back seat of the car. His eyes snapped open. It still smelled of blood, coppery and sickly, as they hadn’t cleaned the car since the museum incident. The seats were stained and there were splatters of it on the floor. 

“Sit me in the front,” he said, struggling to sit upright.

Goemon nodded, helping Jigen out of the car again, holding him close against his chest as he moved around to the passenger seat. He lowered Jigen into the passenger seat, careful not to hurt his bad leg. Jigen leaned back against the seat, pulling his fedora down over his face. He felt queasy, his lunch threatening to make a reappearance. 

Goemon shut Jigen’s door and moved around the car to sit down in the driver’s seat. He turned the key in the ignition and flicked on the AC, which Jigen was thankful for. It eased his sickness. 

“You can drive?” he asked, his voice muffled by the hat over his face. 

The car pulling out from its hiding spot between the bushes was answer enough. It whizzed down the street, the engine roaring and the tires screeching. 

“You don’t hafta drive so fast,” Jigen mumbled. 

“You need medical attention.” The car lurched, moving even faster than before. 

“Relax. I’ll be fine. ‘Sides, all these potholes in the roads are hurtin’ my leg.” 

Goemon eased his foot on the pedal, the car slowing to a more comfortable speed. He tipped Jigen’s hat up from his face so his eyes were visible again, giving the gunman a small smile. Goemon’s calloused fingers brushed a strand of hair from his face. “You had best not be lying, Daisuke.” 

Jigen chuckled but didn’t bother to pull his hat back down. “Since when do I ever lie?”


	10. Chapter 10

The blood loss was getting to Jigen, his surroundings swaying as though he were drunk. His body was sapped of any strength he once had, so Goemon had to carry him, cradling him in his arms as he walked up the driveway of the safehouse. The pain in Jigen's thigh was constant, the knife still sticking out from the fabric of his trousers, each step Goemon took jostling it and causing the pain to reach a screaming crescendo. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for Goemon to get the door opened. He moved into the mess of a living room and settled Jigen down onto the couch.

Jigen draped an arm over his eyes and groaned softly, feeling the heat of a fever radiate from his forehead. They couldn’t afford another hospital visit and he doubted Fujiko would be bringing them the money anytime soon. He doubted she would bring it at all. 

“The knife may be beyond my capabilities, but for now I can tend to your arm.” He moved in, hands hovering over Jigen's arm as though it was a delicate vase close to breaking. 

“Oh, fuck it,” Jigen croaked, forcing himself into a sitting position. The movement caused black dots to swarm his vision, but he clenched his teeth, forcing himself to remain conscious so he could do what needed to be done. With a yell of protest from Goemon, he pulled the knife from his leg and tossed it to the ground before collapsing back against the leather padding of the couch. He gasped, choking down air. Fresh blood trickled down his leg. 

“You are going to end up killing yourself,” Goemon hissed, yanking Jigen’s trousers down. 

"What else 'm I meant to do? 'S not like I can get a doc to remove this shit," Jigen slurred slightly, too weak to properly form words. Sweat built up on his forehead.

"We are not medically equipped to remove a knife from you!" Goemon's voice was panicked. He frantically wiped blood from the wound. "It could have sliced through an artery."

"Well, it didn't. Jus' stitch it up, man." Jigen was struggling not to lose his temper, fighting to force the irritation back down.

"But if it had sliced an artery, and you had removed the knife, you would have died," Goemon said, eyebrows furrowed as he began stitching the wound. "I should have driven you to hospital."

"And then what? Get Pops into even more debt?"

Goemon fell silent, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Finally, he was able to regain his voice. "He- He said his insurance covered Lupin's treatment."

"He was lying." He sunk lower into the couch, squeezing his eyes shut. "We shouldn't have taken on that stupid job. My leg’s fucked, man."

“It is not ‘fucked’. It will be alright if you rest it,” Goemon said, finishing up the last of the stitches and wiping the last of the blood. He sat back and closed his eyes, crossing his arms. "I thought it seemed odd, but I did not want to believe that Zenigata would…" he trailed off.

“Of course he would,” Jigen said breathlessly. He dragged a hand down his face, groaning. “I don’t mean t’ snap at ya, Goemon. It’s just… y’know…” 

Goemon nodded and helped Jigen sit up so he could take a look at the bullet wound in his arm. He unwrapped the tie that was acting as a make-shift bandage from Jigen's arm and fresh blood spilled. The pain spiked and Jigen winced as the blood-soaked fabric of his shirt was peeled away. 

Jigen was made to bite down on a towel as Goemon dug out the bullet with a pair of tweezers. His practised hands managed to pick the bullet out with ease. The clank of it hitting the metal dish indicated that they were halfway through. He produced a needle and thread and started on stitching up the hole. Three stitches later, and he was moping up the blood from the wound, the treatment finished.

"That should suffice," he said after examining his handiwork.

Jigen didn't have the energy to complain when Goemon laid him back down on the couch and draped a soft blanket over him, sliding a pillow under his head. He watched as Goemon flicked the light off and settled down in the armchair next to the couch. 

The TV was playing softly in the background, lights flickering across Jigen's face as an old black and white film played. Jigen couldn't place which, but he vividly remembered seeing it once before as a child, laying on the couch sick with a fever. It wasn't long after that his Pa had bought him his first pistol, a .22. Not his trusty Smith and Wesson -- that had been given to him by the Boss...

"I don't think I killed that guy," Jigen said, breaking the silence.

Goemon cracked open an eye.

"Yeah. I know the Boss. He wouldn't put some nobody in such an important position. Vincent's probably the real deal." 

"...You need to rest.” 

Goemon was right. It was just his sleep-addled brain being cruel. He tried to push the thoughts to the back of his mind, reaching over to the table, his fingers closing around a box of cigarettes. He brought them to his face, an aching sadness washing over him when he saw they were Gitanes. He'd have to bring the box to Lupin when he next visited the hospital.

Goemon passed him a lighter and he nodded his thanks, tapping one of the cigarettes from the box and holding the flame to the end. They weren't his go-to choice of cigarettes, but the familiar taste made him sleepy, the exhaustion of the previous couple of days finally setting in. He lazily stubbed out the half-smoked cigarette, eyelids sliding shut.

The front door creaked open, two pairs of high heels tapping into the hallway. Jigen’s eyes snapped open. Goemon stood up, Zantetsuken in hand and ready to draw at a moment’s notice. 

“Oo-la-la.” Jessica stepped into the room, holding her hands up, giggling. “Someone’s excitable! It’s only us, don’t worry. Fujiko had a key.” 

Fujiko’s eyes fell on Jigen and she shook her head, her hands on her hips. “You were supposed to distract him, not get yourself killed.” 

“It’s the mafia. Pretty hard to distract them without getting killed,” Jigen mumbled, closing his eyes once more.

Fujiko squeezed herself on Jigen’s couch, soft and gentle hands moving his legs out of the way so she had space. Jessica seemed content to sit on the table, sweeping aside the trash to make space. She tapped an envelope against the palm of her hand and cleared her throat. “There’s good and bad news,” she said.

“Spit it out,” Jigen sighed. 

“The good news is we sold the Jewel,” she said. “And my, what a beauty it was. Almost wanted to keep it for myself! But now for the bad news. You know that several million I promised ya? Well…” 

“The bastard only gave us $100,000,” Fujiko said. 

Jigen dragged his hands down his face in frustration, not caring that it caused his bad arm to throb. 

“Don’t be like that,” Fujiko huffed. “$50,000 is more than enough for your surgery.” 

“Pops,” Jigen rasped, “is in debt because of us.” 

“So, when Lupin is better, you can all be good samaritans and help him pay it off,” Fujiko said, smiling sweetly. 

Jessica bent down to Goemon's level and placed the envelop on his lap. Before she stood back up, she pinched both of his cheeks, cooing. His brow furrowed, his face turning crimson.

"Stop with that," Jigen said, throwing an empty can at her. 

“Anyway. Aren’t ya supposed to be thieves? Why’d you care about his debts?” Jessica asked. 

Jigen opened his mouth to fling a retort at her, but closed it again. He pulled his hat over his face and turned over to his side, his leg aching as he did so. “I’m going to sleep,” he grumbled. 

“We'll be staying here for the night,” Fujiko said. “It’s late and I’d rather not have to drive back to our place.”

Jigen grunted in response, waving a hand as though to dismiss them.

Fujiko and Jessica seemed to take that as a yes, as they made their way up the stairs, whispering to one another and giggling. Jigen only hoped they didn’t use his bed. 

Just as he was slipping into sleep once more, he felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around him, gentle, but with hidden strength in them. Goemon pulled a blanket over the two of them, arm draped across Jigen’s chest. “If you require advice about the surgery, I… Have been through it before,” Goemon murmured into the back of his neck. 

“You… Yeah, Zenigata said he helped.” 

“He did." Goemon nodded. "I transitioned while I was young. I am what some would call ‘stealth’. Not deliberately. I just did not feel a need to tell anyone,” he explained.

“Your folks were supportive?” 

“Yes. I came out when I was perhaps seven years of age. As of then, I was brought up as a male would traditionally be brought up in my family line. Unfortunately, I was unable to obtain hormone blockers, but I started testosterone when I was sixteen. A year later, I had top surgery.” 

Jigen’s heart swelled knowing Goemon trusted him enough to disclose such information to him. The information itself came as no shock, but Goemon opening himself up to Jigen was huge. “Thank you,” he said. "For telling me."

Goemon nodded and nestled closer to Jigen, wrapping himself around Jigen’s back and pulling him close. He stroked Jigen’s hair, a gesture that was deeply comforting to Jigen, somehow dulling the sharp pain of his newly stitched wounds. The TV will still on, the voice of a man who’d smoked too many cigarettes speaking over soft jazz, barely audible. It was a soothing sound, and before he knew it, Jigen finally drifted off to sleep. 

***

Jigen woke up to the crackling sound of something frying, the smell of oil and shrimp wafting into the room. He groaned and rubbed his eyes, flopping over onto his back. He turned his head to see Goemon working in the kitchen. His sleeves were pinned back to avoid catching them in the bubbling oil.

“Tempura? For breakfast?” Jigen stretched out the kinks in his back and immediately regretted it when a stabbing pain shot through his thigh. 

“You slept through breakfast,” Goemon said as he dished up the food. He placed Jigen’s plate on the coffee table and helped him sit up, pressing some chopsticks into his palm. “Eat. Your body needs nourishment.” 

Jigen didn’t need to be told. His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since the previous afternoon, and he immediately dug in, biting into the crispy batter. He didn’t know how Goemon did it, but every meal he cooked was absolutely delicious. He barely paused for breath as he ate, devouring the meal within minutes. When he was finished, he leaned back against the couch and lit up another of Lupin’s Gitanes.

“We should visit him today,” he said, smoke drifting from his lips as he spoke.

Goemon nodded. “Fujiko and Jessica left before noon. They cleaned up your clothes, however.” He handed Jigen his suit, now clean of any bloodstains. They'd even stitched up the holes. “Jessica felt bad about the lack of money.” 

“That so?” Jigen examined his clothes. They looked as though they were brand new, not even a trace of any blood or tearing. With Goemon's help, he managed to pull his trousers and shirt on without tugging his stitches. 

"Do you have the dough?" Jigen asked as he pulled on his jacket, which had also been mended. The movement caused his arm to ache.

"Yes. Are you intending to give it to Zenigata?"

"Yeah. I doubt he'll accept, though, the stubborn bastard, but I can try."

Jigen skipped out on putting on his tie. He stood up, leaning all his weight on his good leg. Stubbing out his cigarette, he stumbled towards the front door, his heart leaping at the realisation that it was finally going to happen. He licked his lips and glanced back to see if Goemon was catching up with him. 

He almost couldn't believe that he was finally on the path to getting top surgery.  
Grinning, he allowed Goemon to wrap an arm around him and walk him to the car, his mind racing with thoughts about how this time tomorrow he could be on the waiting list.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse my heavy-handed ass foreboding agfuwauifwgfwajh


	11. Chapter 11

Leaning heavily on Goemon for support, Jigen pushed open the door to the room. The smell of cigarettes wafted through the air. Lupin’s bed was nestled underneath a window and Lupin was sitting with the blanket wrapped around his shoulders, pouring over some papers in his lap. He didn’t look up from them, brows furrowed in concentration.

“Hey,” Jigen said, shaking off Goemon's support and limping over to Lupin’s bed. “What’re ya readin’?” 

“My case file,” Lupin said, setting the papers aside. “I heard what you did last night. They think I’m the mastermind behind it.” 

“Where’s Pops?” Jigen plopped down in what he assumed to be Zenigata’s seat, relieved to give his leg a break. 

“He went to get a coffee. He’s been up all night, y’know, freaking out about that stunt you all pulled. He wanted to drive right over there, but he’s supposed to be guarding me.” He lifted his left hand, the chain of the handcuff jangling. “This is just for show, you know.” 

“For show, huh.” 

“Yeah, so the doctors think I won’t escape. As if something like this would keep me from escaping.” 

“When will you escape?” Goemon asked. “It is not like you to waste time in bed.” 

Lupin gave Goemon one of his signature toothy grins. "Aw, you miss me?" 

"I am merely concerned about Zenigata's finances."

“Almost forgot.” Jigen dug through his pocket, and tossed a box onto the bed. “Gitanes. Bet you’re gasping for a smoke.” 

“Oh, Jigen-chan!” Lupin’s eyes lit up and he tapped two cigarettes from the box. Jigen lit both and stuck one between his lips and the other between Lupin's with a lopsided grin. They inhaled smoke in unison and leaned towards the open window to exhale. 

The door behind them swung open, the aroma of coffee filling Jigen’s nose. Zenigata stepped into the room, his hat skewed on his head, huge bags etched under his eyes, his hair dishevelled. His tie was wonky and his white shirt was stained with coffee. His eyes, once bright and enthusiastic, were dull, all the life sapped from them. The scene of whiskey clung to him.

“You two were supposed to come in disguises,” Zenigata mumbled, taking a sip from his coffee. He eyed Jigen, looking him up and down, and then shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe you, Daisuke. Nor you, Ishikawa. I would have thought you’d have at least some sense. But running into Vincent’s hideout...” He shook his head once more. 

Jigen tossed the envelope of money at him. “Fifty grand,” he said. 

“More than enough for your surgery.” He took another sip from the coffee, his eyes beginning to regain their twinkle, the ghost of a smile appearing on his face. “I’ll sort it out for you.” 

“We would like you to keep the remaining money,” Goemon said, his voice solemn, his eyes closed.

“I couldn’t possibly-” 

“As a token of our respect, Jigen and I would like you to keep it.” 

“It would be immoral, I couldn’t-” 

“What you’re doing is already ‘immoral’,” Jigen interjected. “Take the money, man. I want you to have it.” 

Zenigata fell silent. He took out the six thousand needed for the surgery and pressed the envelope with the remaining forty-four thousand back into Goemon’s hands. Jigen knew better than to argue once Zenigaga had made up his mind, so he dropped it, shoving his hands back in his pockets, biting down hard on his cigarette. Goemon tucked the envelope back into his yukata, his mouth drawn into a thin line.

“I’ll… leave you three to catch up with each other. Don’t do anything stupid.” He walked out of the door but paused to poke his head back through. “I’ll say it again, though. Please remember to wear a disguise next time. They think you’re both in prison and if they see you here I have to deal with the consequences.” He scratched the back of his neck and closed the door.

Jigen waited until his footsteps faded before talking. “Well, that went well.” 

“Sure did,” Lupin said.

“He won’t take the money and he won’t let you escape, which means you’re eating up more of his money.” Jigen threw up his hands. “Why the fuck isn’t the police department covering this shit?” 

“It’s corrupt. As far as they’re concerned, he’s volunteering to catch us. He’s failed too many times so they refuse to give him funding.” Lupin tugged the IV from his hand and turned so his legs were dangling from the bed. “They’d rather me dead, anyway.” 

“Are you sure you are sufficiently healed to be leaving?” Goemon asked, hands hovering over Lupin, ready to catch him if he fell.

“Of course he’s not.” Jigen stood up again, wincing and nearly toppling over as he did so. He looked in the bedside table and found Lupin’s clothes neatly folded in one of the compartments. “Here, get dressed.” 

“I’ve spent too long here, anyway,” Lupin muttered as he slipped his green jacket on. With Goemon’s aid, he was able to get off the bed, inhaling sharply through his teeth. “Zenigata told me you got that blue-eyed guy good, Jigen.” 

Jigen shrugged. A stern look from Goemon told him he shouldn’t divulge his worries about Vincent still being alive to Lupin. Instead, he opened the window as wide as he could. They were on the ground floor, but Jigen still instantly regretted it when he hopped down, his bad leg buckling and sending him sprawling on the ground. Winded, he rolled out of the way so Lupin and Goemon could lower themselves down. They snuck around the building, avoiding doctors and visitors, until they reached the yellow fiat, hidden in an alleyway nearby. 

“How’s Fujicakes?” Lupin asked as he lay in the back of the fiat. The blood still stained the seats and the sight of it made Jigen's stomach churn. He clicked his tongue and opened the trunk of the car to find a tartan blanket. 

“Put this over the seat.” 

Lupin complied, silently spreading the blanket before laying back down. Once Jigen had sat down in the passenger seat, Goemon turned the key in the ignition and began to pull out of the alleyway.

“I did ask,” Lupin began once the car was speeding down the road, “how is Fujicakes?”

“She’s gotten herself a girlfriend and they scammed us out of several million.” 

Lupin giggled. “That’s my Fujicakes!” 

“She ain’t yours no more. I told ya, she’s gotten herself a girlfriend.” 

“I know.” He grinned. “Hey Goemon, swing by Zenigata’s place on the way back, will ya?” 

Goemon nodded, the car skidding off in the direction of Zenigata’s house. 

The house looked run down to say the least. If Jigen didn’t know any better, he would’ve assumed it was abandoned. Chipped paint, boarded up windows and an overgrown front yard. Jigen stepped over the empty ramen cups as he made his way to the front door, Goemon following close behind. As he approached the mailbox, his foot made contact with an empty whiskey bottle, the glass skidding across the ground. Cursing under his breath, he arranged the envelope in Zenigata’s mailbox so the corner was poking out, the white paper stark against the black paint. Goemon stayed close by his side as he limped back to the car, a look of concern plastered on his face each time Jigen stumbled. 

“Wanna get pizza?” Lupin asked as Jigen lowered himself back into the passenger seat, groaning at the pain in his leg.

Jigen felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth despite the pain. “Yeah, that’d be great. I’m starvin’.”

***

“Careful with those pizzas, Lupin,” Jigen mumbled as Goemon pulled into the driveway. The smell of pepperoni and cheese was somehow less appealing when he caught sight of the corner of a white envelope sticking out of the mailbox. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “He’d better not have-!” 

“He’s a stubborn bastard.” Lupin gave Jigen a pat on the shoulder as he stepped out of the car, almost dropping the pizzas he had balanced in his arms. 

Goemon got out of the car and walked around to open Jigen's door. Jigen grabbed his outstretched hand, leaning on Goemon as he stood, his leg threatening to give out. They walked towards the door together, Jigen snatching the envelope from the mailbox as they passed by.

Once inside, Jigen sank into the couch next to Lupin, a warm pizza box balanced on his lap, the envelope in hand. Inside was the money, seemingly untouched, but written on the back of the envelope in a black marker were a list of dates for appointments and, in bold letters at the bottom, “surgery date: 16th August”. 

Before he could tuck the envelope into his pocket, Lupin snatched it up, examining the writing as he munched on a slice of pizza.

“Not bad, Pops,” he said around a mouthful of food. “Three weeks from now, huh. Better get ready for the big day, Jigen-chan.” He playfully punched his arm.

Jigen chuckled, grabbing a slice of pizza, stringes of cheese dangling over his fingers. “Almost doesn’t feel real.” 

"Well it is and you'd better get used to it," Lupin said, grinning.

Jigen paused, regarding the two men. "I couldn't have done it without you." 

Lupin laughed, pulling him into an embrace. "You too, Goemon! C'mere."

Reluctantly, Goemon squeezed himself on the couch, blushing when Lupin wrapped an arm around him, pulling both Goemon and Jigen so close their cheeks were squished together. 

"I… suppose this isn't so bad," Goemon said.

Jigen smirked. "You enjoy it. You can admit that."

"O-of course." He reached for a slice of Jigen's pizza, leaned back into the couch. "Yes. I do enjoy it." 

“Oh! I knew it!” Lupin yelled in delight, clapping Goemon’s shoulder. “My hugs are the best.” 

Jigen stuck a cigarette between Goemon's lips, erupting into a peel of laughter when Geomon's eyes widened comically. Still giggling, he took the cigarette back and lit it, taking a deep pull. "I'm glad you enjoy it, man." Then he lowered his voice, hoping Lupin wouldn't hear. "I enjoy it, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe one day I will write chapters more than 2000 words but today is not the day. ;)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: there is some drinking in this chapter and also Jigen humorously drunk driving.

“Lemme get this straight. Yer tellin’ me Fujiko was lying about being scammed out of the several mil?” 

“Yup! She got the full amount. I think it was around ten million? She told me she figured you’d only need a little,” Lupin said, chuckling, cigarette smoke spilling out from between his lips.

Jigen tilted his glass of whiskey back and forth, watching the golden liquid trickle through the ice cubes. His lips crept up into a smile and he shook his head. “Aw, what the hell. Doesn’t matter anymore” 

Lupin gave him a clap on the back. “See, she’s not all bad.” 

“Mm.” He finished the rest of his drink and leaned his arms on the bar, scratching his beard as he stared absent-mindedly at the record player behind the bar. The needle popped and crackled against the vinyl, soft jazz music drifting from the speakers, blending well with the sound of rain pattering against the windows outside. “Those three weeks went so quick.” 

“Yeah, I know right. Nervous?” 

“Nah.” Jigen held up his now-empty glass for the bartender to refill. “Can’t wait to get it done.”

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something, man,” Lupin said.

“Go for it.” 

Lupin gazed at Jigen, brown eyes twinkling under the soft lights illuminating the bar. “I’m trans.” 

Jigen spluttered and choked on his whiskey. 

“Yeah, I know, right? Who woulda thunk it.” Lupin took a pull from his cigarette. “It’s not a big deal, really.” 

“Are you kiddin’ me?” Jigen exclaimed once he’d gotten his coughing fit under control. “‘Not a big deal’? I don’t get ya sometimes, buddy.” 

“No, no, for me it’s like I never had to get top surgery like you or Goemon. I started hormone blockers at a young age, see, so I just never grew tatas.” 

“Wish that were me,” Jigen said, tapping ash from his cigarette.

“It did make my life a hell of a lot easier,” Lupin admitted. He took a sip from his drink, his cheeks glowing red. “Still had to deal with a lot of shit from my dad, though.” 

“Keh. Me too, man, me too.” 

Lupin downed the rest of his drink, swaying slightly. “Where is your dad, anyways?” 

“Fuck knows. Might be dead for all I know.” 

“That’s rough.” 

Jigen shrugged. “I don’t miss ‘im. If he’s still out there I doubt he misses me, either.” 

Lupin stroked his chin and the pair fell into a comfortable silence. The bar now hung thick with smoke, the people around them starting to get up to leave. Some remained at their seats, passed out, several empty glasses scattered on the table around them. Jigen had two more drinks, the whiskey going smooth down his throat, warming his chest.

Lupin put down his glass, the ice clinking inside as it hit the table. “We could head down to Pops’s place after this,” he slurred.

Jigen fingered the envelope in his pocket, the paper crinkling. “Alright.” 

They stood up, the realisation of how much Jigen had actually drank settling in once he nearly toppled over. Lupin slapped some cash onto the counter and grabbed Jigen’s arm, the two of them swaying and stumbling towards the exit. They clambered into the car, Jigen taking the wheel, the alcohol warming his cheeks, a clear warning that he should not be driving right now. He didn’t care, though, instead fumbling to turn the key in the ignition and flooring it.

The car lurched, zooming width-ways across the road and smashing into a lamppost on the opposite pavement. 

“Ah. That’s gonna leave a dent,” Jigen slurred, backing up away from the lamppost, metal creaking, and clumsily turning the car around in the right direction. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Lupin shouted.

“What does it look like I’m doin’? Fucking drivin’!” 

“No, no, no, here, gimme the wheel.” Lupin leaned over, breath reeking of booze, and tried to grab the wheel. The car veered to the left, scraping against the opposite curb. 

“Now look what you’ve done.” Jigen slapped Lupin’s hands away and floored it once more, not caring that they were now driving on the wrong side of the road. Drivers screamed profanities at them, honking and swerving to avoid them. Jigen thrust his middle finger up at them. 

They continued on the wrong side of the road until Jigen twisted the wheel around, the yellow Fiat lurching around a turning. Zenigata’s house was now in sight. Jigen leaned forward, hands gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. The car shot towards the house, its engine roaring. 

“Jigen! Jigen! Break!” Lupin yelled.

Jigen slammed the breaks, but it was too late. The little Fiat smashed into Zenigata’s white picket fence, sending pieces of wood flying everywhere. The force of it hurled Jigen and Lupin back against their seats. 

“Fuck.” 

Swaying, Jigen got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. A light appeared in one of the windows of the house, the curtains parting to reveal Zenigata’s face. He gaped at the wreckage of the garden, blinking a few times as if he did not believe what he was looking at. Broken shards of wood, grass torn up by car tires, and a dented Fiat in the middle of his yard. He slumped.

Jigen grinned, waving the envelope in the air. “Lemme in, Pops,” he slurred, almost falling over when Lupin barged in next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and leaning heavily into him. 

Zenigata dragged a hand down his face, disappearing behind the curtains. Before long, Jigen could hear the sound of keys rattling in the door and the creak as it opened. Zenigata stepped out, wearing a pair of slippers and a gown. “It’s 1:00 AM,” he said. 

Jigen thrust the envelope forward. “Take it.”

“I’ll take enough to cover the damages to my fence,” Zenigata said.

“No, take it all,” Jigen said, pushing the money into Zenigata’s hands. 

Zenigata dropped his hands to his sides, leaving Jigen with his hand outstretched, pressing the envelope against his chest. He stepped back, but Jigen persisted, trying to shove the envelope into his gown pocket.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Zenigata said, stepping back further.

“Goddamnit, man, I nearly died getting this shit. I want you to have it. Now, please, take it.” There was a desperate edge to Jigen’s voice as he once again pushed the envelope against Zenigata’s chest. 

“Just go home. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Zenigata said, stepping back into the house and closing the door. 

With a huff, Lupin snatched the envelope from Jigen and slammed it into the mailbox, muttering profanities under his breath. 

***

“Where’ve you two been?” Fujiko asked when Jigen and Lupin stumbled through the doorway. 

“Pop's place,” Jigen muttered, tearing himself from Lupin’s grip and collapsing face-first onto the couch. “Where’s Goemon?” 

“Upstairs, sorting through your old binders with Jessica,” Fujiko said, picking at a manicured nail. “We can get rid of them.” 

“Get rid of them,” Jigen repeated, the thought sobering him. 

“Yeah, dummy. Like, burn them. Well, most of them. The weird cop you hang around with wants the less crusty ones to donate or something.” She stood up from the armchair. “Come outside and help me light the fire.” 

Grunting, Jigen rolled off the couch, righted himself, and followed Fujiko out towards the backyard, the scent of her musky perfume and wine clinging to her. When they reached the backyard, Jigen found someone had cleared away a patch of the overgrown grass and had set up a small bonfire, an unlit pile of sticks surrounded by a circle of rocks. 

“Oh, that wasn’t me, by the way,” Fujiko said as they approached. “Goemon did it.”

Jigen raised an eyebrow, chuckling. “You made him do it?” There was no malice in his voice.

“How rude! Jessica made him, not me.”

“Yeah, yeah, same thing.” Jigen pulled out a lighter, thumbing it open with a clink. He held it to a piece of kindling and it lit, slowly spreading its way to the sticks. After enough prodding, it grew sizable enough that Jigen could toast marshmallows if he desired. 

Goemon and Jessica filed out of the house, each holding a pile of Jigen’s old bras and binders. His throat tightened at the sight of them, a pit of dread settling into his stomach.

“Lupin fell asleep,” Jessica said, dropping her pile on the ground before the fire. “Should I wake him or nah?”

“Let him sleep,” Jigen said, staring at the fire, the blend of oranges and red lapping at the air. It popped and crackled, smoke streaming up into the night sky. “He’s had a lot to drink.”

“Good because he looks real cute right now.” She giggled and clapped Goemon on the back as he passed by. 

“The… bunny ears…” he mumbled, ignoring Jessica and carefully placing his pile next to Jessica’s. 

“The bunny ears? Pffffft, tell me you didn’t-?” 

Jessica nodded, erupting into peals of laughter. Jigen couldn’t help but chuckle himself, not that he found the prank that funny. He swore Goemon’s coughing fit was an attempt to suppress his laughter. Eventually, Jessica’s laughter faded. 

Goemon, finally recovered from his ‘coughing fit’, turned to Jigen. “Are you prepared?” 

Jigen nodded and the three of them stepped out of the way, allowing him plenty of space. Taking a deep breath, Jigen stepped towards the piles of binders, picking up the one closest, examining the faded red colour, the rips and tears and the grim staining it. As of tomorrow, he would never have to worry about maintaining, washing, stitching and fixing his binders. He wouldn’t have to deal with being out of breath within minutes of walking up a hill. He wouldn’t have to deal with how hot it got when he wore one during summer.

With a last glance back to Fujiko, Jessica and Goemon, he bent down, grabbed an armful of binders and bras, and tossed them into the fire. The smell of singeing plastic filled Jigen’s nose. He threw in the second pile, the flames enveloping the clothes, blackening them. He stepped back, hands shoved in his pockets, watching as the binders were eaten away, feeling relief wash over him. A weight was gone from his chest.

Goemon pinched the packet of Marlboro’s from Jigen’s jacket pocket, tapped one loose, held it to the flames, and stuck it between Jigen’s lips.

“Thanks, man.”

Goemon smiled, lighting his own cigarette and exhaling smoke up towards the moon. He wrapped an arm around Jigen’s shoulders, pulling him close. Jessica and Fujiko whispered behind them, giggled, and then the back door closed. Jigen hardly noticed them leave, his gaze locked on Goemon’s. A blush warmed his cheeks. He took the cigarette out of his mouth and leaned in close, smelling the scent of river air, green tea spice, a hint of orange blossoms and honey, a smell so distinctly Goemon that Jigen’s heart swelled. He cupped Goemon’s face, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. 

“This is sappy of you, Jigen,” Goemon said, blowing cigarette smoke in Jigen’s face. 

“And you’re never sappy?” Jigen chuckled, throwing his cigarette into the fire. 

“Of course not,” he murmured, planting a gentle kiss on Jigen’s cheek. “Never.”


	13. Chapter 13

Jigen leaned back on the bed, hands folded beneath his head, trying not to feel stupid while dressed in a hospital gown. Smoke wafted from the cigarette stuck between his lips. There were several more stubbed out on the bedside table, despite staff members scolding him for smoking inside, but... what could Jigen have done? He needed to calm his nerves, plus the smell of hospital food was not a pleasant one so it was best to drown it out.

Lupin checked his watch and clicked his tongue. “They sure like to take their time.” 

“What, you got places to be?” Jigen smiled. He instinctively reached to tug down his hat but his hand made contact with his hair and he remembered the nurse had taken it away from him, shoving it into Lupin’s arms. Clearing his throat, embarrassed, he dropped his hand.

“So what are you gonna do after you’ve got them cut off?” Lupin asked.

“Tch. Steal shit with ya. What else would I do? Go back to killin’ people?”

Lupin gave a small smile, stubbing out his third or fourth cigarette. “I think Goemon might’ve gotten lost finding those coffees.” 

“Ah, well. Looks like a doctor is coming to take me away anyway,” Jigen said, motioning to the door. A doctor stood just outside of the door, glancing over a clipboard. Jigen quickly stubbed out his cigarette and sweeped the evidence into the waste bin beside his bed. If the doctor had noticed the smell he said nothing, instead tucking the clipboard under his arm and striding over to Jigen’s bedside. 

“The surgeon is ready to see you.” 

“About time!” Lupin said. He gave Jigen a pat on the arm and grinned. “I’ll go look for Goemon. You have fun, uh, getting your tits cut off.”

“Sure. See ya later.” 

And with that, Lupin bounced out of the room. 

***

“Ah, Goemon!” 

Goemon turned around, finding himself face to face with Lupin. He handed over a coffee in silence, secretly feeling relieved he’d finally found - well, been found by Lupin. Navigating hospitals was not his forte. 

Lupin took a slurp from the coffee. “Man, am I hungover.” 

“Has Jigen been seen by a surgeon yet?” Goemon asked, taking a sip from his own coffee. 

“Yeah.” Lupin glanced at his watch. “We’re probably gonna be hanging around here for a while. Wanna go find somewhere to sit in town? Grab some grub?”

“I suppose we should.”  
Town was strangely quiet. None of the usual hustle and bustle. Those who were there walked with their heads bent down, keeping their shopping bags close. The summer heat was scorching, beating down on Goemon, causing him to shield his eyes from the sun’s rays. He noticed Lupin wiping sweat from his brow beside him and cleared his throat. 

“This feels strange.” 

“Tell me about it. Let’s get out of the sun and find a café, or something. Look, there’s one right there.” 

He was pointing to a small local shop, one of the only shops nearby that seemed to be open. Before Goemon could reply, Lupin grabbed his arm and ran over to the building, pushing the door open. The cold rush of the AC was a relief, Goemon had to admit, and the houseplants decorating every table and wall were soothing, calming. He went to sit at a table at the back, leaving Lupin to order for them both. The walls were painted a deep blue, film posters hanging above the red leather couches. 

“Jigen likes some of them,” Lupin commented on the old film posters as he placed two mugs on the dark wooden table. “I got you green tea.” 

“It is unfortunate they serve it in coffee mugs,” he said between sips, “but it is admittedly fine tea.” 

He sat back, crossing his legs and sinking into the couch’s soft leather, listening to the clinking of coffee mugs, the crackling of the record player, the soft bossa nova drifting through the room. His gaze wandered. The shop was empty aside from the owner and one other patron, his face hidden behind a huge newspaper, only his silver hair visible. Goemon narrowed his eyes. He took another sip from his tea and stood up, fingers hovering over Zantetsuken. The man lowered his newspaper, folding it neatly on the table, and glared up at Goemon with piercing blue eyes. 

“Oh, fuck,” Lupin said from behind Goemon. 

“Relax,” Vincent said. “I’m not about to attack you in the middle of a coffee shop.” 

“Why are you here?” Goemon demanded, striding over to the table, one hand gripping Zantetsuken’s hilt.

“To drink coffee.” 

Goemon glared. 

“No, really. If you think I’m here to fight you, then you’re sorely mistaken.” He finished the last of his coffee, tucking the newspaper into his jacket pocket. “Besides, Daisuke has made sure I would never be able to fight again. Let’s take this outside.” 

“Alright.” 

Vincent paid for all of their drinks, leaving a hearty tip before limping out of the coffeeshop. Lupin narrowed his eyes suspiciously and looked at Goemon, who shrugged. He’d made up his mind about Vincent. 

“Consider that an apology,” Vincent said. 

“What, you shoot me in the gut and think a coffee can make up for it?” Lupin stared at him incredulously. 

“I’m merely trying to ease the tension,” Vincent replied. 

Lupin rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Why don’t you just… go. Leave.” 

Vincent reached into his jacket and withdrew a knife. Immediately, Goemon and Lupin drew their respective weapons.

“I’ll be killed if Daisuke isn’t dead by the end of the day,” he said flatly. Then he put the knife back. “Even if I killed him, I wouldn’t be able to continue my job.”

“Because of the limp? Sheesh. They’re ruthless, huh,” Lupin said, not-so-discreetly tip-toeing away from the man. Goemon placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks, and he sighed. “I dunno what you expect us to do about it, man.” 

“I did not expect to meet you again,” Vincent began. “But now that our paths have crossed, I thought you might like the satisfaction of knowing my fate.” 

“Um. Not really. But thanks, I guess.” Lupin glanced at his watch. “Oh! Would you look at the time! We’d better be going, right, Goemon?” 

Goemon breathed an exasperated sigh. “Lupin…”

“Goemon~! We should be getting back to Jigen, right? Right?” 

“Yes… Right…” 

Before Goemon could protest, Lupin hooked an arm around his and dragged him away from Vincent. He jerked his arm away from Lupin’s grip and glanced back. Vincent narrowed his eyes at them before checking his own watch. Frowning, Goemon turned back around to catch up with Lupin. 

“We should make haste back to the hospital,” he said, an urgent tone to his voice. 

“That’s the plan,” Lupin said. “That guy gives me the creeps, man.” 

“I do not trust him.”

“You think his story is bull?”

“...No. Jigen heavily injured him in our last encounter,” Goemon explained. “I do not think the limp is feigned. Nor would I be surprised if that was his only long-lasting injury.” 

“Yeah. Just keep your guard up.”

“I intend to.” 

***

Jigen awoke with a groan. Fighting back the nausea, he blinked a few times to focus his vision and then yelped when Zenigata peered over him, eyes wide. 

“It’s all done?” His throat was sore. He lifted his head to gaze down at his chest, saw the drains and the hospital binder wrapped around him and then laid back down, relief washing over him.

“Not so bad, was it?” Zenigata sat back down, crossing his arms. 

“Where’re the others?” 

Zenigata’s face fell. “I don’t know. They… never showed.” 

“What? You’re lyin’, aren’t ya?”

Zenigata shook his head. 

“Nah, nah, I get it,” Jigen mumbled, “this is all some elaborate joke where they burst in ‘n’ surprise me. Is that it?” 

“No. I have no idea where they are.” 

The door creaked open and Jessica poked her head through. She beamed at Jigen and entered the room, Fujiko following behind.  
“Ya finally got ‘em chopped off!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together with glee. 

“Mmm. Keep it down a little,” Jigen mumbled. 

“Where’s Lupin?” Fujiko asked, glancing around the room.

“Yeah, and that samurai. Do they not give a shit about you?” Jessica sat down next to Zenigata, plucking the box of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and lighting one for herself. 

“Harsh.” Fujiko laughed. “But probably true,” she murmured. 

“You know I can hear ya, right?” Jigen closed his eyes, still feeling nauseous. “I dunno where they are. Neither does Pops.” 

“You think that Mafia guy got ‘em?” Jessica said between pulls of her cigarette. 

“Shit. Pops, lemme borrow your car.” Jigen struggled to sit up, his chest hurting, his head spinning. 

“Jigen, I don’t think you should be-” 

“Then you drive.” He winced as he got out of the bed, almost toppling over onto his knees. Jessica grabbed him, mindful not to jostle him, and wrapped a supportive arm around him. She was a good three or four inches taller than him, much to Jigen’s dismay, and was strong enough to lift him up over her shoulder in a fireman’s carry with ease. 

“Take us to your car,” she said to Zenigata. 

Exasperated, Zenigata led them out of the hospital, narrowly avoiding nurses and doctors as he did so. Each step Jessica took jostled Jigen and made him feel nauseous. It was all he could do to close his eyes and focus on not throwing up. 

“This is idiotic,” Zenigata grumbled. They were right around the corner from the exit when The Inspector stopped them all in their tracks. “The receptionists will see us if we walk past.” 

“Now you’re thinking like a thief!” Jessica exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “So, what’s the plan, old man?”

“Just sprint, I guess.” 

“Wow, that’s the worst plan I ever heard!” She laughed. “On three, then? 1, 2, 3!”

Before anyone could respond, she zipped across the reception area and through the double doors. Jigen groaned weakly, the momentum making him feel queasy. He watched through blurry vision as Zenigata and Fujiko caught up with them, the Inspector ushering them towards his car. 

Jigen was practically thrown into the backseat of the car by Jessica. He groaned once more, met with a giggly “Sorry!” from Jessica. His chest was really beginning to hurt now, and he hadn’t been smart enough to steal any morphine from the hospital to ease the pain. He was laying on his back, head pressed against the car door, the roof of the car seeming to spin. He pulled his knees towards him so Fujiko could squeeze into the back of the car and closed his eyes, listening to three car door slams. 

“Do you have any idea where they could be?” Zenigata asked, the car engine roaring as he sped off. 

“Mmm. No,” Jigen said. He paused, his brain foggy. “The house?”

“We might as well check,” Zenigata sighed. 

It didn’t take long to speed to the house. Jigen waited in the car as Zenigata checked, but as soon as Zenigata emerged from the safehouse Jigen knew he’d had no luck. The Inspector sat back down in the driver’s seat and slapped his hands against the wheel.

“Well, that cute yellow Fiat is still here,” Jessica said from the passenger seat. “They can’t have gone far. Let’s look around town.” 

Town seemed normal, perhaps a bit quieter than normal, but nothing out of the ordinary. Admittedly, Jigen had fallen into a murky, uncertain sleep as they drove through town, the pain and medication he’d been given earlier knocking him out. He awoke with a start as the car screeched to a stop.

“Wassup?” He said, scrambling to sit up, his whole body aching from being crammed into the back of the car.

“Look,” Fujiko said quietly, pointing towards a door down a dark alleyway. It was a rusted, metal door, but next to it was a fresh blood smear. 

Jigen immediately reached for his gun, but then remembered he was dressed in only a hospital gown. Jessica threw him a pile of clothes - his suit - and then passed him his magnum with a wink. 

With great effort, he managed to pull on his pants, a pair of socks, and his shoes. The tricky part was figuring out how he’d pull on a shirt and where he’d put those annoying drains attached to his chest. After a bit of contemplation, he settled on pulling on just his jacket, leaving it open with the drains carefully placed into his pockets. He checked his gun -- fully loaded -- and got out of the car. 

“Wow,” Fujiko said, “that surgeon really abused you, huh.” 

“Keh. Shut it.”

“Are you sure you should be doing this, Jigen?” Zenigata asked, grimacing at the sight of him. 

“Yeah.” Jigen scowled and walked towards the door. Taking a deep breath, he pushed it open, revealing a dark corridor. Zenigata walked ahead of him, holding up his lighter and dimly illuminating the corridor. At the end of the corridor was another door. They began walking, the metal door slamming shut behind them. When Jigen glanced back, he noticed Jessica and Fujiko weren’t there. 

“You got your keys, right?” he whispered to Zenigata, too tired to feel mad. 

“Yeah. Why?” 

“Thought Fujiko might run off with your car… I guess she could still hotwire it. Fuck.” 

Zenigata didn’t seem to care, instead moving deeper down the corridor. A musty smell hung in the air, causing Jigen to crinkle his nose. In the dim light of Zenigata’s lighter, Jigen could spot blood smeared on the walls, causing his heart rate to quicken. With a creeping dread, he caught up with Zenigata and placed one hand on the door, the rusty metal cold and rough. He nodded to Zenigata and then pushed open the door with a shrill squeaking sound. 

The other side was pitch black. The smell of vomit wafted to Jigen’s nose, making him feel queasy. A dripping sound echoed through the darkness. The hairs on Jigen’s arms prickled and every instinct he had was screaming at him to turn and run. 

“Is there a light switch?” he whispered to Zenigata. The lighter was not enough to illuminate the room, but he held it up to the walls and found one. 

“Yeah. Are you ready?” Zenigata’s fingers hovered over the switch.

Jigen grunted in response, grabbing his magnum. “Go.” 

With an electrical hum, a light flickered on, producing a sickly yellow glow. The room was square and fairly small. Its once-white walls were smeared with grime. The floor was concrete and absolutely filthy. And on the far wall were Lupin and Goemon, covered in bruises, grime, and dried blood.

“Lupin! Goemon!” Jigen rushed over to them, but immediately regretted it when his chest erupted into pain. 

“Who did this to you?” Zenigata demanded, walking straight past Jigen and up to the two men. He examined the chains around their wrists and swore under his breath. “We’d need a key.” 

“He took it…” Goemon spat. “Zantetsuken.”

“Who?” Zenigata asked, brow furrowed.

“Who d’ya think, Pops?” Lupin grinned weakly. “Vincent.” 

Jigen lowered himself to sit on the floor, overtaken with dizziness and nausea. He massaged his temples and a groan slipped from his lips. “That fucking bastard. I thought he was dead.”

“And I thought you were in hospital,” Lupin countered. “Shoot these chains off us already, man.” 

With a grunt, Jigen four quick shots, separating the cuffs from Lupin and Goemon’s wrists. The metal fell to the floor with a loud clatter, and Goemon and Lupin immediately stood up. 

“Where’s yer weapons?” Jigen asked. “He got ‘em?” 

“Yeah. He was trying to lure you here, so he’s probably still nearby.”

“I am a disgrace,” Goemon spat. “To allow Zantetsuken to fall into the wrong hands…” 

“Now, now, don’t go committing seppuku. We’ll get it back,” Lupin said with a roll of his eyes.

“Lupin,” Zenigata began with a heavy sigh. “I… don’t suppose you’ve got a plan?” 

“Ohh, Pops! You wanna help little old me? I knew you loved me deep down!” He strolled over to the door, hands behind his back, eyes closed. “But, yes, as a matter of fact, I do have a plan. It’s very simple. We walk out of here and Vincent will come running after us. Easy.” 

“Isn’t that a little too easy?” Zenigata asked.

“Yeah. Unfortunately, the author of this story is far too tired to think of any elaborate plan on my behalf.”

“No,” Goemon interjected. “This is a worthy foe. It will not be easy.”

“Goemon-chan. The man nearly killed me, but do you really think he stands a chance against us? It’s 4 against one. We’ll be fine.” 

“But Lupin, Zantetsuken… and your gun…” 

“Quit yer yappin’ and let’s get this over with,” Jigen grumbled. “You’d have to face him eventually either way. We got me ‘n’ Zenigata so we’ll be fine.” And to prove his point, Jigen marched up to the door, shoved it open, and walked into the darkness of the corridor. The rest of them followed suit.

Zenigata insisted on going first when they reached the entrance door, forcing it open with an ear-grating creaking sound. The daylight that filtered through as it opened was near-blinding after the dimness of the corridor. The four of them stepped outside. 

Jigen’s eyes flickered around, taking in the alleyway, shoulders tense. He hand hovered over the gun at his hip as he stepped forward. His entire body felt heavy, tired, and his chest ached, but he kept stepping forward. He exchanged a glance with Zenigata. All seemed clear. The four of them moved towards the opening of the alleyway, backs pressed together. 

“Surely you aren’t thinking of escaping,” said a hoarse voice. Vincent stepped into the alleyway, knife in hand. Lupin’s Walther was tucked under his belt and Zantetsuken was strapped across his back. 

Zenigata was the first to step forward. “You’re under arrest.” 

“Oh, I couldn’t care less if you arrested me. I’ll be dead by the end of the week, either way.” 

“Then… What’s the point in all this?” he asked, drawing his pistol. 

“Orders from the Boss,” Vincent shrugged as though it was perfectly reasonable. “I’ve got to kill Daisuke.” 

Before Vincent could say another word, Jigen fired the two remaining bullets in his gun, the dizziness making it hard to aim. One whizzed straight past Vincent’s head, but the other met its mark, tearing through the man’s gut. The exact spot it had hit before. 

“You’re insane,” Jigen grumbled. “Too fuckin’ loyal if you ask me.” 

“And you weren’t loyal enough.” Sneering, Vincent lurched forward, slashy wildly with the knife and grazing Jigen’s arm. With no bullets left, Jigen had to resort to punching. His first swing missed, and he stumbled forward, overcome with a wave of dizziness. Just as Vincent was about to plunge the knife into his back, he righted himself and managed to land a hit, Vincent’s nose exploding with blood. This did not stop him, however. He plunged the knife towards Jigen, narrowly missing. He tried to stab again, but Goemon caught his wrist, prying the knife from his grip. 

Vincent was panting now, blood splattering from his gut. He was slumping, legs shuddering under his weight. He looked up at the four men with wild, bloodshot eyes, his teeth clenched. Lupin reached for Zenigata’s pistol and stepped towards the man. 

“Just give up already, will you?” he said before shooting him in the kneecap. With a flourish, he returned the gun to Zenigata and bent down to pluck his own gun from Vincent’s belt. “Thank you!” 

Vincent gurgled, blood spilling from his lips. 

“I shall be taking Zantetsuken back,” Goemon said, snatching the sword back from Vincent’s back. 

Vincent weakly tried to reach for the sword, but Goemon stepped away before he could. He dropped his arm, hissing through his teeth, glaring at all four of them.

“Yeesh,” Lupin said, crinkling his nose at Vincent. “No wonder Jigen left the mafia. These guys are weird.” 

Zenigata bent down and cuffed Vincent, not that he would be able to fight anymore in the condition he was in - he was bleeding out and the leg Lupin shot was bent in a weird angle. He snarled at Zenigata, but the Inspector merely stood, requested back-up through his walkie-talkie, and then turned to the thieves. “The cops will be here soon. You’d best be going before you’re caught.”

“You’re a good guy, Pops,” Lupin said, grinning. “Thanks, man.” 

Goemon bowed, eyes closed. “While we cannot continue to be allies, you have my utmost respect. Your aid is highly appreciated. Thank you.” He gave a small yet dignified blush. 

Zenigata scratched the back of his neck, averting his gaze. “I just did what was right…” 

Jigen approached him. He felt utterly exhausted, his arms barely strong enough to put his magnum back into its holster. “I just wanted to say… Thanks for all your help. I couldn’t have done it without ya.” 

He turned to leave, stepping around Vincent’s -- now unconscious -- body as he tried to quicken his pace to catch up with Lupin and Goemon. All of a sudden, a big arm wrapped around him, pulling him close into a warm, yet gentle embrace. 

“Keep on trucking, Jigen,” Zenigata murmured. “I’m proud to have been able to help you.” 

Jigen felt his cheeks turn crimson, but he reciprocated the hug, face pressed into Zenigata’s chest. And just as soon as it had begun, it was over. Zenigata ushered him out of the alleyway, police sirens wailing in the distance. With one last glance back, Jigen gave Zenigata a wide grin and turned to catch up with Goemon and Lupin. 

“See ya around, Pops.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops probably shoulda kept Vincent dead. Oh well.


End file.
